A Member of the Team
by Sheilajeanne
Summary: When Chief is injured during a parachute jump, the Gorillas learn a lot about what it takes to be a team from an unexpected source (Non-canon character, violence, adult situations implied) Originally posted on Jane Wood's GG site, and Part 1 of what I intended to be a 3-part story. Maybe posting it here will force me to finish it! Don't worry, Part 1 makes a good story on its own..
1. Chapter 1

A MEMBER OF THE TEAM

Lt. Craig Garrison paused on his way out the mansion's front door and swore softly to himself. He'd heard the other Gorillas leave for supper just a short while ago and had been about to do the same himself. Suddenly, he realized he'd totally forgotten about Chief.

Their latest mission had gone off with only one hitch. Chief had hurt his leg badly when a gust of wind had deposited him and his parachute ontop of a pile of boulders just outside their drop zone. He'd had to sit out the entire mission. On their return home, x-rays had shown he'd suffered nothing more than severe bruises and a bad sprain, so, the doctor at the hospital had wrapped the ankle and sent him home. The sergeant-major had dropped him off at the mansion just after lunch. Craig had been too busy to greet him, but the Sergeant reported that he was on crutches, and having great difficulty walking because the fall had also injured his left shoulder and elbow. Craig doubted very much he'd be up to the long walk to the mess hall.

 _The least I can do is go up and check how he_ _'_ _s doing,_ Craig thought, as he abruptly changed direction, and began to climb the stairs to the barracks.

His soft knock on the door went unanswered. He repeated it and at last Chief's voice called, "Door's open."

He found him lying on his cot, fully dressed, the injured leg propped on a pillow. He looked tired and pale and dispirited.

"Just wanted to check and see how you're doing, Chief," he said.

"I'm okay, Warden,"Chief answered softly. His reply lacked the defensive edge Garrison had come to expect from the young con.

"What are you going to do about supper? Are the others going to bring you a tray?"

Chief shrugged. "Dunno."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I was asleep when they left."

Garrison scowled angrily. "You mean, no one asked you if you wanted anything?"

"Nope. Don't need no looking after."

Garrison stifled the urge to swear, angered both by the others' thoughtlessness and by Chief's stubborn refusal to confess he needed help. "Oh, come on, Chief," he said, "You can't go without food! Look, why don't you come with me? I'll bring my jeep around to the front door."

Chief considered it for a moment. "Appreciate the offer, Lieutenant, but I'd rather stay right here. I'll be okay."

Garrison was quick to guess the reason for Chief's response. It was probably just too difficult for him to get up and down the stairs right now. "Well, I'll bring you back a tray, then," he said, in a tone that left no room for argument. "What would you like?"

Chief shrugged and gave a wry half-smile. "I don't remember them having much of a selection on the menu. Anything's fine, long as it's not their chicken."

Garrison chuckled. "Yeah, I had that last week. They must've got a bunch of old stewing hens that should have gone to the soup factory. It was like trying to eat India rubber! If that's what's on the menu, I'll just bring you some sandwiches, okay?"

Chief nodded. "Sounds good, Lieutenant. Thanks for thinkin' of me..."

"You're welcome, Chief."

He hopped into his jeep, and drove to the mess hall. Normally he walked, but he'd decided it wasn't right for Chief to eat alone, and carrying two trays back to the mansion on foot would have been too awkward.

He poked his head into the kitchen, and spoke with the cook to arranged it, then waited by the servery window for the trays to be delivered. He did not look around the mess hall for the rest of his men, though he definitely intended to have a word with them when they returned to the barracks.

He returned with the trays, and carried them up the stairs. The cook had put lids on just about everything, so he managed to get them safely to the table with no major spills.

Chief was still lying on his bunk much as he'd been when Craig left, facing the wall, the blanket pulled up to his waist.

"Can you make it to the table, Chief?" he asked, feeling a stab of concern at Chief's lethargy.

"I'll give it a try," he mumbled. Slowly, he sat up, hesitating for a long moment before swinging his legs over the edge of the cot. He drew in a sharp hiss of breath, and swore softly as the change of position caused the injured ankle to throb.

"Taken anything for the pain lately?"Garrison asked.

"Not since I got back," Chief hissed, between gritted teeth. "Made me sleep most of the afternoon."

Craig handed him the crutches. He made it to his feet on the second try, and stood teetering uncertainly on one foot. Craig steadied him until he was able to get the crutches into position.

"Okay?"

Chief nodded, and took a hesitant step. He'd gotten the pain under control now, but the set of his jaw revealed the effort it had cost him.

He made it to the table by the window, and sank into the chair Garrison pulled out for him with an audible sigh of relief. Garrison pulled another chair into position for him so he could put the injured foot up.

"Thanks, Lieutenant," he said. He looked with surprise at the second tray. "Who's that for?"

"Me. I decided to keep you company," he said, grinning. "That way I can be here to pin a few ears back for thoughtlessness when the others return."

Chief made no comment at that, merely turned his attention to his tray.

Garrison did the same, beginning to remove the lids from his soup and coffee. He noticed Chief seemed to be struggling with his, due to the pain of his elbow and shoulder.

"What did the doctor say?" he asked, as he picked up his coffee and took a sip.

"Ahhh, the usual stuff. Keep off it, keep it elevated, make sure it's supported if I have to walk on it...He wants me to come back in two weeks to let him have a look at it. He thinks it's gonna be a least four to six weeks before I'll be able to risk jumping again. He sighed. "That's a long time to be laid up..."

Garrison nodded in agreement. "Well, guess it could have been worse. Could've broken your leg..."

"Or my neck!" Chief concluded wryly. As a matter of fact, both Garrison and Actor initially thought he had broken the ankle because the bruising and pain had been so bad. The results of the x-rays had come as a pleasant surprise.

Chief dug into the pork chops, peas and mashed potatoes that had comprised the more edible of the mess hall's two offerings. "Hey, this stuff's not bad," he declared after a few bites. "At least I can chew the meat!"

"Better than their chicken, that's for sure," Garrison agreed.

Chief reached for his coffee, and took a quick gulp. Garrison noticed his hands trembling slightly, and wondered why. "You feeling okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, fine, Warden. Why'd you ask?"

"Your hands are trembling."

Chief gave a slight shrug. "Chilly in here tonight," he said, cradling the coffee cup in his hands as if to warm them.

The temperature in the room seemed quite comfortable to Garrison, but he decided to let it drop, knowing how Chief hated to show any sign of weakness. Never much of a talker by anyone's standards, he'd become even more withdrawn since his injury, and Craig guessed his withdrawal was due to the injury making him feel vulnerable.

Garrison's efforts to draw him out this evening met with scant success, and he was almost relieved when he heard the other Gorillas returning from supper.

They were bantering back and forth noisily as they came up the stairs, but they fell abruptly silent when the saw him sitting at the table.

Actor was the first to speak. "Good evening, Lieutenant,"said the tall, aristocratic Italian. "Chief, how are you feeling?"

"Not too bad, Actor."

"You were sound asleep when we left, so we decided it best not to disturb you. I wasn't sure you would want any supper, but I see the Lieutenant was kind enough to bring you some."

"So nice of YOU to remember him," Garrison cut in, his voice chilly. "I suppose he would have gone hungry if I hadn't thought of it! He's certainly in no shape to walk as far as the mess hall, and the last time I looked in the fridge here, all it contained was a stale loaf of bread and some sour milk!"

The three men exchanged guilty glances. "Hey, Chiefy, we're sorry, mate!" said Goniff. "We never thought..."

Garrison cut off the slender, blonde thief. "That's exactly right, Goniff, and it's about time you DID start to think of each other's welfare, at home here as well as when we're on a mission! All that stuff I taught you about teamwork wasn't just for in the field, you know! How can you expect someone to protect your back out in the field, if you can't even be bothered to look out for him when you're at home?"

Chief's eyes were fastened on his plate. It was obvious that Craig's rebuke of the other men was embarrassing him. "Don't need anyone lookin' after me, Warden..."

"Really, Chief? What would you have done about supper if I hadn't come along?"

"I would've been okay, Warden. I wasn't all that hungry..."

"How were we supposed to know, Warden?" cut in Casino. "We're lucky if we get two complete sentences outta the Injun in one day! It's not like we're mind readers or something!"

"You don't need to be a mind reader to know Chief's in pain and having trouble walking, Casino! As I recall, you were the one that had to all but carry him away from our drop zone after he crash landed on that farmer's stone pile!"

"Yeah, and small thanks I get for savin' the Redskin's lousy neck..."

Chief had ignored Casino's first slight, but now his hands balled into fists, and he turned to confront the dark-haired, hot-tempered safecracker. "Who was it heard that patrol comin'? You would've walked right into it if I hadn't stopped you!"

"Casino!" Garrison snapped angrily. "That's enough! From now on, I want to see you treating each other with more consideration and respect, both here and in the field! Each of you here is a valuable member of this team. You each have important skills to contribute. It's time you started to realize that!" He glared at each of them in turn, until he received a grudging acknowledgment of what he'd just said.

"Good. Now, I want to see all of you out for small arms practice at 0900 tomorrow. Chief, you too, if you feel up to it. And I'll be asking to make sure you got some breakfast!" He rose to his feet, and prepared to leave. Chief also started to get up.

"Where are you off to?" Garrison asked.

"Gotta go to the loo," Chief mumbled, obviously resentful of the question.

"Actor...you go with him. I want someone to make sure he gets down those stairs okay."

Actor nodded his handsome Roman head, and handed Chief his crutches. "Wise idea, Lieutenant. His elbow and shoulder are still quite painful."

Chief made no protest, merely gritted his teeth, and began to move towards the stairs with painful slowness.

Craig went on ahead, and was nearly at the bottom of the stairs when it happened. He heard Actor shout, "CHIEF!" then the sound of the crutches rattling down the stairs, followed by some muffled thumps that might have been a body falling.

Garrison turned around and sprinted up the stairs. Actor was standing just above the first landing, supporting Chief's upper body, as he sat slumped bonelessly back against the stairs.

"Help me get him safely down to the landing," Actor called. "I think he's fainted."

Craig grabbed his knees, while Actor took his upper body, and they lowered him down until he was sitting on the landing, leaning drunkenly against the wall.

Actor loosened his shirt collar, and checked his pulse, which was rapid and weak. He then pulled up his left shirt sleeve, and hissed in concern at the sight of Chief's elbow. The parts of it that had not been scraped and bruised during his ill-fated parachute landing were bright red, and the whole elbow was swollen and hot to the touch.

"That's a nasty-looking infection," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's running a fever."

"That wouldn't surprise me either. He was complaining of feeling cold while he was eating supper, and I noticed his hands trembling," Garrison said.

Casino and Goniff had heard the commotion, and came running to the top of the stairs. When Goniff saw what had happened, he hurried back into the barracks and fetched a blanket without being asked. Actor wrapped it around Chief's shoulders, and continued to support him with his head bending forward, resting on his knees. After a few minutes, he started to come around.

"Can you tell us what happened, Chief?" Garrison asked, when at last his dark, almost black eyes flickered open..

He was shivering, and barely able to string a coherent sentence together, but at last, he managed to mumble an explanation. "Fumbled the crutch with m' left hand, an' almost dropped it. When Actor grabbed m' sore elbow to steady me, the pain was so bad, I couldn't stand it. Tried to pull away from him, 'n lost m' balance enough that I put weight on m' bad foot. Everything kinda went gray for a moment after that. Glad you were there to grab me, Actor."

"Thank you," Actor said. "glad I was able to be of help."

"Let's leave him sitting here for a few minutes longer," Garrison suggested. "I'm going to see if I can get hold of a doctor."

"Good, idea, Lieutenant," Actor agreed. "I'll stay with him."

He returned ten minutes later. Chief was now looking much more alert, although he was now shivering so hard that Garrison could hear his teeth chattering. "Doctor says he'll be here in about half an hour," he told them. "He says in the meantime, to keep him resting and warm. Also, he wants to know if he's running a fever."

"Let's get him back upstairs to his bed," Actor suggested. "Casino, please get me the thermometer out of first aid kit in the bathroom. Warden, since you and I are the tallest, we're probably the best ones to help him upstairs."

"I hate to remind you, but I still gotta pee..." Chief mumbled, obviously embarrassed.

Actor gave a nasty smile. "I believe there's an old chamber pot somewhere in the bathroom downstairs. If not, you can use a bucket. One thing I know for sure...I have no intention of lugging you all the way downstairs and all the way back up."

"Awww, geez!" Chief protested, hiding his face with his good hand. "A goddamn chamber pot..."

"Can you hold out 'til we get you back upstairs?" Garrison asked, trying not to grin at Chief's reaction.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay..."

"All right, let's get you up on your feet then."

Chief shrugged off Garrison's offered hand. "I'm okay," he insisted. "I can manage on my own."

Garrison exchanged glances with Actor, who raised his eyebrows and gave a slight shrug. "If you want to try to split your skull open again on the stairs, by all means, be my guest!" the con man said sarcastically.

Chief glared at him, and stubbornly made an effort to rise, pushing off from the floor with his right hand and foot while using the wall for support. Blessed with the balance and reflexes of a cat, and fueled with pure spite, he somehow made it to a standing position.

Garrison shook his head. "You make a mule look like a piker when it comes to stubbornness, Chief. Now what?"

"Hand me my crutches, please."

Garrison crossed his arms, smiling wryly. Chief wasn't the only one know for his stubbornness. "Oh, no. We're not giving you a second chance to fall down those stairs, Chief. You'll accept our help whether you want it or not! Now, come on, put your good arm around my shoulder. Actor, be ready to grab hold of his belt on that side if he stumbles."

Chief took a hesitant step away from the wall. For a moment, he swayed dizzily, stifling a cry of pain, and Garrison grabbed his arm to steady him. Then, he regained his balance and with their help, began to slowly climb the stairs.

They helped him into bed, and made him as comfortable as they could. When Actor stuck the thermometer in his mouth, he was shivering so hard that his teeth rattled convulsively against the glass tube. "Easy," Actor cautioned, "mercury poisoning is definitely not going to help your situation."

Chief grinned weakly at that, and managed to last the requisite three minutes without biting the thermometer in half.

"So, I was right," Actor announced, squinting at the tiny scale of numbers, "you do have a fever- a hundred point eight."

Chief merely grunted, and burrowed as far under the blankets as he could. Rarely had he felt so miserable and so helpless.

The doctor arrived a short while later. He was a stocky, middle-aged Scot with sandy hair, piercing blue-gray eyes and a no-nonsense attitude. He shook Garrison's hand firmly. "Dr. Colin Campbell's the name, Lieutenant," he said, then proceeded to questioned Garrison closely about the circumstances of Chief's injury.

"So," he concluded after a careful examination of Chief's elbow and foot, "your drop zone was a farmer's field. I'm willing t' wager there'd been manure spread on it sometime during the past fortnight. Am I right?"

Garrison thought for a moment. "Come to think of it, I remember it did smell a little ripe still, though it had just been freshly ploughed."

"Aye, I thought as much. That explains the lad's infection. Look, the ankle's infected too. See these abrasions?" He pointed to some deep scrapes on the outside of Chief's ankle.

"Yes, you're right," Garrison agreed. "So what can you do for him?"

"I'll give him some sulfa, and both the foot and the elbow should be soaked in warm salt water or Epsom salts for twenty minutes, twice a day, t' help draw the infection out. If he's no better come morning he'll have to go to hospital. Is this his own bed?"

Garrison nodded in confirmation.

"Good. He shouldna' be alone tonight. Check his temperature every few hours and if it gets above 104, bring him in straight away. When did he last have something for pain?"

"This afternoon, just after I got back," Chief gritted from between clenched teeth.

"I'll give him a shot noo then, before we soak his elbow an' ankle. That's bound t' stir things up a bit."

Dr. Campbell had been right about the pain. Chief had a high tolerance to pain, they all knew that, and had seen it demonstrated time and again, but the agony of trying to immerse his injured foot into a bucket of warm water was more than he was able to bear, even with the help of a shot of morphine. He would get the foot part way in, then yank it out, cursing softly as he tried to force himself to tolerate the pain. He was clenching the edge of the cot with both hands, knuckles white with pressure.

At last, Colin put a hand on his shoulder. "Give it a rest, man," he said gently. "I can make warm compresses from some towels. That should work just as well."

Chief nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. Heaving a sigh of relief, he sank back on the bed.

The warm compresses were much easier to endure. Dr. Campbell renewed them every few minutes, as the towels cooled. By the time 20 minutes had passed, Chief had relaxed enough to slip into an uneasy doze. At last, Dr. Campbell removed the towels, patted the ankle and arm dry, and pulled up the blankets. Chief opened drugged, sleepy eyes at his touch.

"Open up," Campbell said, and again slipped a thermometer into his mouth. When he removed it three minutes later, he scowled at the reading. "What did you say it t'was earlier, Actor?"

"One hundred point eight."

"Well, it's up to a hundred an' two point eight, now."

Actor gave a silent whistle. "That fast! Is that...a bad sign?"

Dr. Campbell rubbed a hand across his ragged mustache. "Aye, well, we'll just have t' hope the sulfa is going t' work. I'd like someone to recheck his temp everra' two hours."

"We'll set a watch, then," Garrison volunteered, "just like when we're on a mission."

"Excellent idea," Campbell agreed. "All right then, I'll pop in early t'morrow morning before I go on duty. But, remember, if the fever tops 104, take him off to hospital straight away. I'll leave you something for the pain, too. Can any of you do an injection?"

"They've all had the standard first aid course," Garrison replied, "but Actor and I are the only ones who've ever actually given anyone a needle."

"Good. So, I'll leave it up to the two of you, then. With the shot I just gave him, he shouldn't be needin' anything fer at least four hours. I'll preload a syringe for you, but don't give it unless he seems t' be in distress. Okay?"

Garrison nodded. "We understand, Doctor."

"Good. See ya in t'mornin' then! Lieutenant..." Dr. Campbell straightened, came to attention, and snapped off a crisp salute.

Caught totally by surprise, Garrison scrambled to his feet, and returned it. Dr. Campbell grinned, obviously enjoying his shock.

"Relax, laddie," he chided, "I'll no be reportin' you fer not salutin' me when I'm out of uniform."

Then, he turned and was gone, before Garrison could recover enough to ask him just what branch of the military he was with, and what rank he held.

"What the hell was THAT all about?" Casino wondered aloud, as the door at the bottom of the stairs closed. "And who is he?"

"I haven't a clue, Casino, but I've got the feeling he's quite a character."

"Doesn't seem to be regular army, that's for certain," Actor said.

"All right," Garrison cut the speculation short, "let's draw straws for watches, and hit the sack. I have a nasty feeling about tomorrow."

"You mean, you think Richards has a mission for us?"

Garrison nodded. "He was in his office with Colonel Draper most of the afternoon. That usually means there's something coming our way."

Garrison was up early, having drawn the straw for the last watch of the night. When Casino came to wake him, he reported Chief had had a fairly good night. "He woke up once, thrashing an' moaning. Said he'd had a bad dream. Actor gave him the needle the doctor left, an' he settled right down."

"How's the fever?"

"It topped out at 103.4. It's come down a bit now, but it's still pretty high."

Chief slept peacefully, snoring softly, until Garrison finished his watch at 0630. The rest of the army regarded 0630 as the start of the day, but Garrison's team did not go by army rules, and generally no one stirred much before 0730. Especially this morning, with a possible mission in the wind, and a night's sleep disrupted by Chief's illness, Garrison did not begrudge them a bit of a lie-in. He slipped out quietly, put on his running shoes, and went for an early morning jog around the grounds.

He loved this time of the morning, with the air cool and fresh and clean, and the birds singing. The run always cleared his mind, and allowed him a fresh start on the day.

He returned to his room, showered, shaved, and put on a fresh uniform. Exactly at 0730, the telephone rang.

 _I knew it_ , he thought, as he picked it up and heard Major Richard's voice on the other end. "Lieutenant, I'd like to see you in my office, please," the Major said."I've got a job for you and your men."

"I'll be right there, sir," he responded.

Richards made short work of the briefing, and half an hour later, Garrison was back at the mansion, with the papers in their leather briefcase, ready to brief his team. He was not surprised to see Dr. Campbell's black sedan parked in front of the door.

The doctor was waiting for him outside his office. Craig tried to keep his jaw from dropping as he saw the doctor's uniform was that of a British Army major. He wore the shoulder flash of the commandos, and his chest bristled with campaign ribbons.

"Sir!" Garrison greeted him, snapping off a precise salute. "good morning to you!"

"Morning, Lieutenant. Got a mission, have you?" Dr. Campbell asked, nodding at the briefcase.

Garrison nodded. "We do indeed, sir."

Dr. Campbell sighed. "Well, that tears it then. I wasn't sure whether to send him off to hospital or not, but if no one's going to be here, that's the best place for him."

"How is he, sir?"

"The fever's down a bit, which is good, but the arm is still very red and swollen. It needs careful watching, or he could lose it. If ye don't mind, I'd like to borrow your phone, t' ring for an ambulance."

"Certainly, sir."

"Will this be your first mission without him?"

Garrison nodded, wondering where this was headed. "Yes, it's the first time one of the team's been injured badly enough to have to sit out a mission."

"You'll have to be extra careful, then, Lieutenant. You're a small team, and you'll be amazed at just how much it can change things. Sometimes, it's the little things like that which can make or break your chances of succeeding."

"I take it you're speaking from experience, sir?"

"Indeed, lad," Campbell responded with a laugh, "indeed I am."

"Thank you for the advice, Major. We're still pretty new at this, and the men are just starting to come together as a team."

Campbell nodded. "I've heard a bit about your team, Garrison, an' I know where your lads are from. Teamwork doesn't come easily t' those who've always tried to work outside the rules. The one who's injured...what's his background?"

Garrison started to speak, then caught himself. "Why do you ask, sir? I 'm sorry, but I have to protect my men's right to privacy."

"It might help in his treatment, Lieutenant, that's why. And don't worry, anything you say will be held in strictest confidence, as between doctor and patient."

Garrison considered for a moment, realized he was concerned about Chief being alone while they were gone, and decided to tell Dr. Campbell the little he knew. "He's done time for car theft, B&E and manslaughter. He's Indian, or half Indian, but no one knows what tribe, and he absolutely refuses to answer personal questions. He's also got a number of escape attempts to his record, some of them successful. That's one skill that definitely might come in handy in our line of work. He carries a switchblade and he's damn good with it. He can move like a ghost when he has to, and he's the best on the team at taking out an enemy without making a sound."

Dr. Campbell nodded. "A valuable skill in your line of work. How does he relate to the other men?"

"He's pretty much a respect him for his skill, but he doesn't talk much and doesn't mix well. I took them to task just yesterday for leaving him alone in the barracks while they went off to supper, and never offered to bring him back anything."

Again, Dr. Campbell nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant, that's very valuable information. Don't worry, I'll look out fer him whilst yer gone. Sounds like ye need t' work a bit on team building..."

"If only he'd open up a bit that would help. But the walls just seem to be so thick. It's difficult to even carry on a conversation with him."

Garrison could have sworn he saw a sudden light gleam in Campbell's eyes. "I'll have t' tell ye, Lieutenant, since I gave up commando work, I've devoted my time t' two things: one, puttin' back together bodies damaged by this war, and two, puttin' back together damaged minds. I studied with Freud in Vienna before t' war, an' it's a fascinating insight he gave me into th' working of t' human mind. I've put his teaching t' good use. If anyone can get yer laddie t' talk, it will be me."

"Well, I wish you luck at it! He's a tough nut to crack. Now, if you'll excuse me sir, I need to brief my men about this mission."

"No problem, Lieutenant! Let me just make my phone call, then I'll be gone!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When Dr. Campbell exited the elevator on the third floor of the hospital, the nurse sitting at the desk looked up and smiled in welcome, her face plainly showing her relief.

"Doctor," she said, "I was debating whether I should call you. It's that patient you brought in this morning, the one called Chief. His temperature has shot up again, and he's in a lot of pain."

Campbell frowned, not liking the news. "Did you try sponging him down with alcohol?"

The nurse nodded. "So far, nothing has worked. He's very restless, and being touched just seems to make him worse."

Campbell gave a curt nod. "Right, then, I'll have a look at him." He snatched the chart from the rack, and hastened down the hall.

He could hear Chief moaning softly from quite some distance down the hall. On entering the room, he found him lying naked on the bed, except for his shorts. An electric fan was blowing a cooling current of air across the bed, and the nurses had placed ice bags on his swollen elbow and ankle. The portion of the left arm visible above the ice bag was streaked with scarlet right up to the shoulder. The infection was spreading fast.

Chief's face was flushed with fever, and his eyes closed. He moaned softly, and kept trying to push the ice bag away from his elbow. A nurse held his right hand to prevent him from moving the bag, all the while talking to him in a soothing monotone.

"Chief?" Colin called. His eyelids flickered, and his head turned fractionally, but he did not open his eyes.

"What was the last temperature reading?" Colin asked.

"One oh five point eight," the nurse responded.

Colin shook his head, frowning in concern. "Enough t' fry his brain. Small wonder he's not respondin' to me! We've got to bring it down. Let's try the alcohol again."

The nurse looked at him doubtfully, then nodded. "Yes, doctor." She picked up the bottle of rubbing alcohol that was sitting on the beside table, and poured a small amount on to a clean washcloth.

As soon as she released his good hand, Chief pressed it to his eyes, shielding them from the light. Touching Chief's shoulder in a gesture of comfort, Colin realized that the muscles in his body were as tight as strung wire.

"When did he last have something for pain?" Colin asked.

"About two hours ago, now," the nurse replied, as she began to apply the alcohol to Chief's chest. "I gave him 5 mg. of morphine."

"It obviously wasn't enough," Colin told her. "Give him another shot. Double the dose this time."

"Right away, sir?"

"Yes, right now."

She left to get the medication, and Colin picked up the washcloth, and continued her job. He could feel Chief flinching and tensing up at his touch. He sensed both fear and anger fueling his reaction. When he had done his entire chest and arms, he put the cloth aside. "You don't like being touched, Chief," he said softly. "I'm sorry, but we've got to get your fever down. The nurse is going to give you something for the pain. It should help..." he nodded to the nurse, who had returned with the needle.

The nurse swabbed Chief's arm with alcohol. He tried to draw away from her touch, and Colin grabbed the arm and held it so she could make the injection.

"There, that's it," Colin said to Chief when she was finished. Now try to relax..." He lifted the ice bag and took a brief look at the elbow, probing it gently. Chief bit back a cry of pain. Colin sighed heavily. There was still no specific focus to the infection, no collection of pus which could be lanced and drained. He'd just have to place his hope in the sulfa. Meanwhile, he'd do what he could to relieve the symptoms.

His strong supple fingers reached out and began to knead the tight muscles of Chief's shoulders and arms. At first, the muscles tightened ever further at his touch, then, gradually relaxed.

"That's it," he encouraged. "Let go. Take a few deep breaths. Good."

He could feel Chief's resistance to his touch crumbling. Gently, he helped him to turn on his side so he could work on his back. He drew in his breath in a shocked hiss when he saw the network of scars crisscrossing his back. "God save us,"he muttered, "no wonder ye dinna like to be touched! Some bugger must hae' fair beaten ye t' death!"

Colin's touch had roused Chief to wakefulness. He licked fever-cracked lips, and struggled to get the words out."S'okay," he whispered. Can't hurt me. They're old scars...long time ago..."

"Prison?" Colin guessed.

Chief nodded. "Chain gang. Funny...when you touched me, pain just seems to drain right away...feels good."

Colin smiled, relieved that it was working. "It's a gift I have lad," he murmured. "Just relax, and let me help you."

"Good, soo good..." Chief slurred.

Colin began to massage his shoulders and back. He encountered some resistance, as his fingers found areas where old injuries had left welts and memories of old pain, but before too long, Chief took a deep breath, then another. With each breath, Colin felt the tension drain out of his muscles. He continued massaging his back, and within a very short time, the rhythm of his breathing changed as he dozed off to sleep.

The nurse, who had remained at the bedside watching shook her head in wonder. "You've magic in your hands, Doctor," she exclaimed. "Not one of us could have achieved what you've just

done!"

Colin shrugged modestly. "The morphine helped." he said softly. "Check his temp again in an hour's time, and if it's not down, call me. I'll either be checking patients or in surgery."

"Yes, doctor. Thank you!" 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Just after midnight, Garrison glided his parachute to a near-perfect landing in the midst of a farmer's field just outside Boulogne, France. Their target was to be a factory on the city's edge. It was the type of assignment Craig liked, a "butcher and bolt" raid. Go in, set explosives, photocopy whatever blueprints and drawings they were able to find of the top-secret weapon the factory was supposedly making, then make a run for it before the charges went off.

He gathered up his chute, and made a quick head count. Everyone was down safely. They buried their chutes, and Garrison ordered them to take cover in a small copse of trees on the fence row while they waited for their contact.

Shortly, a man came walking along the road, whistling. Actor gave an amused snort as he recognized the tune. "That's got to be our contact," he whispered. "He's whistling " _La Marseillaise_!"

"Thought it sounded familiar," Garrison murmured. "That's our countersign for the password!"

He stood up, and took a few steps out into the open. " _Bonsoir, monsieur. Allons, enfants de la Patrie..._ _"_

A big grin split the Frenchman's face. " _Le jour de gloire est arrivé_!" he responded, supplying the second line of the French national anthem. "You must be Lt. Garrison," he said, switching to English. "Welcome! I am Stephan Flechette. Let us hope that the day of glory has indeed arrived!"

"Yes," Garrison agreed, and quickly introduced his men.

"If you will follow me, I have a car ready to take you to your destination." Stephan said. "I will drop you off a short distance from your target, and you can travel the rest of the way on foot. It is our thought from watching this factory that the best time to go in is around 2 am. That is when the guards seem to be least alert." He gave a big grin. "If all goes well, you can be back in England in time for breakfast!"

"Let's hope so," Garrison agreed.

Stephan had picked a good route, and they encountered no one on the road as they slowly made their way towards the outskirts of the city. The nearly blacked out headlamps of the ancient sedan provided little light, and Garrison was glad that Stephan had volunteered to be their driver.

At last, Stephan pulled off the road. "You must get out here," he said. "I will hide the car in those trees, and wait for your return."

Garrison nodded. There was no need for further talk...they had reviewed the best route into the factory several times, and knew exactly what they needed to do.

Soon the men were assembled around him, waiting. Garrison paused for a moment before giving orders. Normally, Chief took the point. He had the best night vision, and the keenest hearing. Goniff could move quietly, but would be lost if he had to take on an enemy in hand-to-hand combat. Casino tended to be careless, and not pay enough attention to his surroundings, and Actor was too tall to move with the necessary stealth. Besides, he was past forty years of age, and Garrison knew his night vision was not all that keen. That left himself, and it was never a good idea for the leader of a raiding team to take the point. He was considered too valuable to take the risk.

 _Well, I guess tonight I do take the risk_ , Garrison thought, feeling a twinge of anger at Dr. Campbell for being so right in his analysis. "Okay, let's go," he said. "I'll take the point. Casino, you're with me. Actor, watch our backs."

They moved out, single file, walking carefully through an abandoned field full of weeds and debris. It was a moonless night, but still, Garrison made use of what little cover he could find. Small bushes, chunks of stone and concrete, even large clumps of weeds were put to good use. After a painful encounter with a large thistle plant, he started to treat the weed clumps with more respect. He stifled a grin as a string of muttered expletives behind him told him Casino had suffered a similar fate.

They reached the perimeter fence without incident, and Actor pulled out a pair of wire cutters. He made short work of the fence, cutting two slits, and leaving the opening hinged at the top, so it would not immediately be apparent if a guard walked past. They waited for a few minutes, making sure of the sentry's schedule. When they saw him reach the far end of the compound Garrison gave a terse nod.

"Do you still want to go with the detonator box instead of the fuses?"Actor whispered, as he pushed the bulky pack of explosives through the fence.

"You got it," Garrison replied. "We want to blow up the factory, not ourselves!"

Actor nodded, and slipped through the fence. A recent mission had nearly ended in disaster when a faulty fuse went off five minutes too soon. Casino had still been inside one of the buildings, rifling the safe, and had been very fortunate to escape capture. Goniff had suffered minor injuries from flying debris. Until someone could prove to Garrison that the fuses were reliable, he wasn't going to risk his team's life again.

Goniff followed Actor, then Garrison nodded to Casino, and slipped through the fence. A quick dash across an open area brought them to the shelter of the buildings. Garrison quickly identified the company office, and they slipped through the shadows to the door.

After a quick check for an alarm system, Casino went to work on the lock, and picked it in thirty seconds flat. He gave Garrison a triumphant grin as he swung the door open, and invited him inside with a sweep of his arm and a small bow.

"Smooth, Casino," Garrison complimented him, "Real smooth...let's hope the safe is just as easy."

They found the correct office, and Casino picked that lock too, then went to work on the safe. He gave a derisive snort when he saw it.

"Turn of the century stuff. Piece of cake. Wouldn't you think this company would go for something more modern?"

"Why? Garrison teased. "Just to give you a bit of a challenge for a change?"

Casino grinned, and bent to his task. "Got it," he said, after a minute, and swung the heavy door open.

They removed the contents, and spread it out on the floor, where the desk would help to hide the beams from their flashlights.

"This what we're lookin' for?" Casino asked.

Garrison nodded, grinning in satisfaction. "This is it, Casino. Let's take our pictures, do a quick check of the other offices, then get out of here."

The engineering office had drawings spread out on some of the drafting tables. Garrison snapped photos of them with his camera, then planted a small incendiary charge, while Casino picked the locks on the drawers which held the other drawings and dumped them out onto the floor.

"Okay, let's go!" Garrison whispered. He backed out of the office, trailing a fine filament of wire behind him. They crouched in the shadow of the stairs, waiting for Actor to sound the all clear.

Garrison watched Goniff sprint across the open area and duck through the fence, then Actor stood up and waved. "You first," Garrison whispered.

Casino took off at a run, crouching low. Garrison waited until he was safely across, then followed, playing out the wire from its spool as he ran. He couldn't go very fast or the wire might snag and break.

He was halfway across when a voice shouted, " _HALT! Wie gehts_?"

He looked up to see a sentry standing 20 feet away, a rifle in his hands. Muttering a curse, he froze and slowly raised his hands, still keeping the spool clutched in his left hand.

The sentry approached cautiously. When he was about ten feet away, there was a single muffled cough and the German fell, clutching his chest and crying out. Garrison did not wait to see if he was dead, but sprinted for the fence.

Before he reached it, the lights in the nearest guard tower snapped on, there was a shout, and a machine gun opened fire.

Craig dived through the opening in the fence, crying out as something tore at his left arm. Actor grabbed the spool from his hand, broke off the wire, and shoved it into the terminal of the detonator. He slammed the plunger down, and the whole compound seemed to disappear before their eyes with a mighty roar.

Before the last vibrations of the explosion died away, they were on their feet and running, taking advantage of the noise and confusion to get away. They did not stop until they reached Stephan's car.

Stephan had heard the explosion, and had the motor turning over. As soon as they were all inside, he gunned the engine, and shot out onto the roadway.

Garrison heaved a huge sigh of relief, and tried to stop panting. The run had winded him, and his left arm burned like fire."Everyone okay?" he asked.

"I'm all right, mate."

"Yeah, okay, Warden." Casino replied. "What I'd like to know is where the hell that guard came from!"

"I'm fine, Lieutenant, but what about you? I heard you cry out as you came through the fence." Actor said.

Garrison felt his left bicep, the hand coming away wet and sticky. "Bullet grazed my arm, Actor. Doesn't seem too bad, though..."

Actor leaned forward and turned on his flashlight. "Let's have a look," he said.

"The guard was down at the end of the compound already," Goniff said ruefully. "Then, he turned around and started back, instead of just continuing along the fence. I don't know why, and I didn't see him turn in time to warn you, Warden. I'm very sorry."

"Maybe he needed to take a leak," Garrison hazarded from between clenched teeth, as Actor probed his arm. "Don't blame yourself, Goniff. You were the one that shot him, weren't you?"

"Yeah, that was me!" Goniff affirmed, with a hint of pride.

"Pretty good shooting," Casino agreed. "Too bad he had ta cry out like that. I don't think anyone would've heard that silenced pistol of yours."

"It didn't sound any louder than someone coughing," Garrison agreed. "Jeez, Actor, take it easy! That hurts!"

"Sorry, Lieutenant," Actor apologized. "I have to clean the wound. It's not just a graze, either. The bullet went right through the muscle, and it's bleeding quite a bit. I'll have to put pressure on it to stop the bleeding."

"All right." He settled back into the seat, and tried to relax. He needed to decide right away...did they go for their rendezvous at the coast, or wait for another day? Could he trust his men to get them out safely if he were incapacitated?

 _I_ _'_ _ll just have to trust them_ , he thought. _And we might as well go now, before the Germans_ _organize a thorough search_...He glanced at Stephan, and realized the Frenchman was grinning.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant," he said. "We're not even being followed! Would you like me to take you to a safe house, where we can have a better look at your wound, and perhaps take a little refreshment? We have the time, if you wish."

"All right," Garrison agreed. He drew in a sharp breath as Actor's hand clamped itself over the freshly bandaged wound, applying pressure. The con man's other hand found Garrison's shoulder, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Garrison realized he was trembling, and he took a deep breath and did his best to let his muscles go limp and relax. If he could slow his heart rate, it would help stop the bleeding.

After five minutes, he heard Actor ask Casino for another bandage. He looked down, and even in the dim light from the dash, could see the first one was already completely saturated. Right then, he came to a difficult decision.

"Actor," he said softly, "I'd better give you the contact information. If this doesn't slow down soon, I'm gonna be in no shape to remember it."

"All right, Lieutenant. That sounds like a wise idea," Actor replied. "Do you mind if the others hear it?"

"Maybe we should stop for a minute." Garrison suggested. It was an ironclad rule that only one person on each team be told the information, to protect their contact in case they were captured.

Stephan pulled over, and they all piled out of the car to stretch their legs, while Garrison gave Actor the information. They then resumed their journey.

By the time they reached their destination, Actor had replace the outer bandage twice more. Garrison still felt clear headed, but when he tried to get out of the car, a wave of vertigo hit him, and he had to steady himself by leaning against the car door.

"Okay, Lieutenant?"Actor queried, laying a concerned hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah. Little bit weak, that's all."

Stephan escorted them inside, and pointed to an old daybed in the kitchen. "You will lie down, please," he said to Garrison, his tone leaving no room for argument. "What can I get you, Actor? Hot water, bandages?"

"Something to use as a tourniquet might be useful too," Actor said. He had taken out a pocket knife, and was using it to cut Garrison's shirt sleeve. When the sleeve had been ripped right up to the shoulder, he removed the bandage completely, and again gently probed the wound, searching for fragments that might possibly be keeping it open.

Garrison writhed in pain. "Hold him still, Casino,"Actor ordered. He took out a syringette of morphine from the first aid kit, and injected it into Garrison's arm.

It was the last thing Garrison remembered for many hours to come.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chief was awake when the nurse came at 6 am to give him his pills and take his temperature. The fever had begun to break shortly after Dr. Campbell left his room the previous afternoon, and he'd slept away the rest of the day and most of the night.

"Ninety-nine point six," the nurse reported, checking the thermometer. "Almost normal."

"Good," Chief replied. "Can I get up then?"

"I'll have to wait and see what Dr. Campbell says," she replied. "He's ordered bed rest for you. You were very sick yesterday. Now, don't fret," she admonished, seeing his disappointment. "He should be by soon. Usually he does his rounds between 7 and 8."

Chief gave a resigned sigh and settled back against the pillows. He hated being confined to bed. It brought back bad memories of a prison break in which he'd nearly been killed. His left leg had been shattered by bullets from a guard's machine gun, and he'd spent months in traction.

He tried to interest himself in a magazine the Red Cross volunteer had left him yesterday, but his concentration soon flagged. He'd never been much for reading. Even in school, he'd always preferred activity to sitting at his desk. _He_ _'_ _s got ants in his pants_ , one of the teachers had told his mom. He smiled sadly at the memory. Too bad she hadn't lived longer...

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hall - a man's heavy tread this time, and not one of the nurses. They stopped outside his door, and a hand knocked lightly against the door frame.

"Door's open," Chief said.

"Glad to see you're awake," Dr. Campbell responded, entering the room. "How are you feeling? You certainly look a lot better, and the nurses tell me you're wanting to get up. Bit ambitious for someone who was as sick as you were yesterday."

Chief grinned and flexed his elbow and ankle experimentally. "I'm still pretty sore," he confessed. "Nurse says the fever is almost gone, though."

"Yes, so I noticed," Colin said, tapping a finger on Chief's chart. "Let's have a look at you."

Chief extended his arm. "Hmm, lot better than yesterday, but still pretty red," Colin commented. "That hurt?"

"A bit. Nothing like yesterday, though." He paused for a moment. "Doc, I just wanna thank you for what you did for me yesterday."

Colin looked up from scribbling a note on Chief's chart. "You're welcome," he said sincerely.

"You always had...that gift?"

Colin nodded. "Since I was a child. I don't talk about it, usually. Some people in the medical profession have said nasty things about it, because they don't understand it. I don't understand it myself, but that doesn't stop me from using it to help people!"

"There was an old shaman on our reservation who could do things like that," Chief said quietly. "He...ah...helped a lot of people. He did his best, but without a real doctor, and medicines, there was only so much he could do for people."

Campbell's eyes widened in surprised. "You didn't have a doctor on your reserve? Why not?"

"No white folks wanted to live with us Indians. Those that could afford it could go to the nearest town. A lot of our people didn't have the money for that."

Colin tried to hide his shock. "So, what about those who couldn't afford a doctor, or were too sick to go to town?"

"The shaman treated them."Chief said. He turned to look at Campbell, and there was deep, cold anger in his gaze. "Sometimes they got better, sometimes they died. Sometimes one of the doctors from town would come if it was an emergency. Not always, though. They didn't like Indians."

"Did you see a lot of people die that way, Chief?"

Chief nodded, and stared off into space. "I lost some of my family because we couldn't afford to pay a doctor durin' the Depression. One winter, I lost both my baby sister an' my younger brother. When I was just fifteen, it was my mom. Died of a fever."

Campbell groped for words to express his surprise and shock. "I'm very sorry to hear that, Chief," he said. "I find it hard to accept that in a country as modern and prosperous as the States such things still happen."

Chief shrugged, some of his anger giving way to resignation. "It was the Depression, Doc. Lot of people died from lack of food, lack of money. Poor whites suffered as well as Indians. It happened all over."

"Yes," Colin agreed. "it did. There was a lot of suffering here, too" He said nothing further as he examined Chief's ankle and scribbled a note on his chart, hoping his silence would encourage Chief to say more, but the painful memories stirred up by the conversation had caused him to draw inwards and shut himself off.

"Well," Colin said at last, changing the subject, "don't see any reason why you can't get up for a bit if you want. In a wheelchair, though. I don't want you weight bearing on the ankle just yet, and your left arm's in no condition to be managing a pair of crutches. Okay?"

"Gotcha,"Chief affirmed. "Uh...would it be possible to get up right now? I'm sick of lyin' in bed!"

Colin considered for a moment. The night nurses were getting ready to go off shift, and were busy with charting and other last-minute duties. Then, when the new shift started, they'd be taking report, giving out breakfast trays and medications, helping patients to the washroom. It could easily be 10 o'clock before anyone had the time to help Chief into a wheelchair. "Sure," he said at last, "why not?"

He quickly found a wheelchair in the utility room, and brought it in. He helped Chief struggle into a bathrobe, then watched as he slowly eased his injured foot over the side of the bed. A sharp hiss of pain, then Chief set his jaw, put his good foot down on the floor, and slowly stood up, using the arm of the wheelchair for support.

"Looks like you've done this before," Colin commented, as Chief eased himself into the chair, with a minimum of assistance.

Chief nodded. "Smashed m' leg up real bad once during an escape. I was months in a cast."

"Mmm. I was wondering about the scars. Must have healed all right in the end," Colin observed, as he adjusted the footrest so that Chief's injured leg was elevated.

"Yeah, lucky for me."

"Okay, I take it you know how to steer this thing. There's a lounge at the end of the hall, with a radio, magazines, games, and a good view of the city. Just let the nurses know where you are, so you don't miss your breakfast tray. I've got a few more patients to see."

Chief wheeled himself down to the lounge, and, after admiring the view from the window briefly, noticed the dart board attached to the wall. He grinned when he saw someone had taped a picture of Adolph Hitler to it. He wheeled the chair over to it, and slowly stood up to retrieve the darts from its face.

The board was obviously a popular pastime with the patients. Someone had even put a piece of tape across the floor to mark the proper distance. However, without anyone to retrieve the darts for him, Chief quickly grew tired of playing alone. He was just sitting in the chair, the darts in his lap, when Dr. Campbell poked his head in the door.

"Just thought I'd pop round to say good-bye, Chief. I've finished my rounds," he said.

"You going home?"Chief asked.

"Yes, I've been here nearly all night, doing emergency surgery on some casualties. Time t' toddle off home for a nice, hot bath and a long nap." He stretched, then reached up to massage tired neck muscles. "I say, you play darts?"he asked, noticing the darts in Chief's lap.

Chief nodded. "Not much fun with the shape I'm in right now," he acknowledged ruefully.

Colin gave a sudden grin. "Let's have a quick game, then!"

"Ahh, Doc, I couldn't do that...The guys are always complaining about me beating the pants off them..."

Before Chief could say more, Colin plucked a dart from his lap, and threw it. It landed just outside the bull's eye.

Chief's eyes went wide with appreciation. "Now, this COULD be interesting," he murmured. "You play a lot?"

"I belong to the local pub league. We play every Friday. They take their darts very, very seriously here, in case you haven't noticed. And you?"

"It was a real popular pastime on the reserve where I grew up. I was captain of a team in prison, too." He grinned suddenly. It was like a flash of sunshine lighting up his face. "None of the other Gorillas will play against me, because they know they're always gonna lose!"

Colin had obviously heard the nickname for Garrison's team before, because he didn't even raise an eyebrow. "So, shall we put a few shillings on the line here, just to make things more interesting?" His eyes were beginning to gleam.

"I'd like to," Chief responded, "but any money I got is back at the mansion..."

"That's okay," Colin responded, flashing him a wicked grin. "I'll take an IOU.."

"The hell you will!" Chief retorted. He separated the darts by colour, and handed one set to Colin. "Pluck that one out of the target, an' we'll get down to business here..."

They settled down to a serious game. Chief had been expecting a quick and easy victory, but he soon found himself disappointed. After a bad first round, he realized that sitting in the chair was throwing his aim off. He put the brakes on, and slowly stood up, hopping on one foot until he was standing behind the chair. With his left hand resting on the handle of the chair for balance, he quickly regained his usual accuracy, but he was still down 2 games to one when the hospital's PA system crackled to life.

"Dr. Colin Campbell, line 2 please, Dr. Colin Campbell, line two..."

Colin swore vehemently. "I knew I should have gone home! Blast and double blast!" He reached for the wall phone. "Campbell here," he said tersely.

Chief watched his face as he listened to the caller. Even though the doctor was making an obvious effort to maintain professional detachment, Chief knew the call was bad news. "I see," Colin said. "How bad?...Anyone else injured?...Good. Okay, tell them to prep O.R. 2. I'll be right down."

He hung up with a weary sigh.

"Bad news, huh?"

"Yes. For both of us. Your team just arrived back. Lieutenant Garrison's been wounded."

There was no mistaking the shock and dismay on Chief's face. "Nooo! How bad?"

"They say it's just a flesh wound in the upper arm. He's lost a lot of blood, though."

"They asked you to operate on him? I thought you were off duty."

"The attending surgeon's tied up with the last of the casualties that came in last night. I'm the only surgeon available, I'm afraid. Do you want to come down with me? You can keep your teammates company while the Lieutenant's in surgery."

"Sure," Chief said. "be glad to."

Dr. Campbell wheeled him to the elevator, and they descended to the main floor. Campbell pushed the chair swiftly along until they came to the waiting room for the surgical ward, where three disheveled, tired men sat slumped in their chairs.

Goniff was the first to notice them. "Chiefy!" he exclaimed, smiling and rising to his feet. "How are you?"

"Better," Chief allowed. "How's the Lieutenant?"

"He took a machine gun bullet through the upper arm," Actor responded. "He lost a lot of blood." The con man's handsome face was lined with fatigue, and his voice hoarse with strain and worry.

"So I see," Chief said, noting the copious amount of dried blood staining Actor's usually immaculate hands and clothing.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen," Colin broke in, "I have to get to surgery. Just one question before I go. How many hours ago did this happen?"

The cons exchanged glances. No one was exactly sure how long the drive to the factory had taken them.

"We jumped around midnight, right?" Casino said at last. "So it must've been, like around 1:30, 2:00, somethin' like that."

"Right, thank you. From the sound of it, it's a good thing you were able to get him back here without delay. Well, I must go see how he's doing. I'll keep you informed."

"Thank you, Doctor,"Actor responded. "See you later."

Nearly an hour passed before he returned. The Gorillas looked up anxiously as he entered.

"Well, lads," he said, "we've got some blood transfused into him, and he's starting to look a lot better. Soon we should be able to take him in to surgery an' get the wound cleaned up. The bullet hit a small artery, and he's lost a lot of blood. Who thought t' use the tourniquet on him?"

"It was my idea," Actor said.

"You most likely saved his life, then. That was good thinking."

"Thank you."

"Now, it t'wil likely be morning before he's in a fit state t' have visitors, so I strongly suggest you go back t' your base, an' get some rest. You've had a rough night of it. An' you..." he turned to Chief, "are due back upstairs for some medication. I hear the nurses are about t' send out a search party for you, so you'd best move along. Perhaps one of your friends can give you a hand with th' chair."

Chief opened his mouth to protest, but Colin cut him off. "No 'buts' about it, lad. From the looks of you, I'm guessing you're spiking a fever again, an' could use something for the pain t' boot!"

"Don't worry," Actor said, taking charge of the wheelchair. "We'll see that he gets there. Then, I think we will take your advice, and head back to the mansion. We certainly are tired, and also I'm sure Major Richards will be anxious to hear our report."

"Was your mission a success, Actor?" Dr. Campbell asked.

The grins on their faces told the story, even before Actor replied. "One Nazi factory up in flames, Doctor, and some vital information on the armaments they were making is right here," he said, patting the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Good, glad to hear it. See you tomorrow then!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Very early the next morning, Dr. Campbell entered the hospital room which was now occupied by both Chief and Garrison. Garrison's eyes flickered opened as he came and stood at the foot of the bed.

"Good mornin' to you, Lieutenant," Campbell greeted him.

"Morning," Garrison managed. His mouth felt cottony from the aftereffects of the anesthetic and pain killers he'd been given.

Dr. Campbell checked his I.V. and dressing, then seated himself in a chair beside the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks," Garrison replied. "May I have some water, please?"

"Certainly!" He poured him a glass from the pitcher the nurses had left on the bedside table.

When Garrison had relieved his thirst, Campbell looked him straight in the eye. His quicksilver gray eyes were serious underneath their sandy brows. "I was wonderin' Lieutenant, if you'd like to tell me about what happened on the mission. It's important to have an opportunity to debrief, especially after something like this happenin' to ye."

Garrison returned Campbell's gaze stonily. "Our mission was top secret, Major. I can only reveal the details to someone with the proper security clearance."

"I can assure you I have the proper credentials, Lieutenant, an' then some. If yer doubtin' me I'll let you check with Major Richards."

"Are you still involved in intelligence work, Major? I thought you were just a doctor now."

Campbell grinned cheerfully. "Still in it up to my neck, laddie. I can't do field work anymore, but I'm involved in training and advising. I'm very interested in what you're doing with your team, so I'm hopin' you'll indulge me. Just remember yer laddie in the next bed..." He jerked his head in Chief's direction as a reminder that Chief was probably awake and overhearing everything they were saying.

Garrison nodded. His instincts were telling him to trust Campbell, and as for Chief, he wanted him to hear what he had to say.

"All right," he agreed, "I guess I would like to talk about it. What you said to me before we left was correct, Doctor. Missing a team member did cause problems." He proceeded to give Dr. Campbell a detailed description of everything that had happened that night up until he'd lost consciousness in the resistance leader's house.

"So," Campbell concluded when he'd finished, "If it hadn't been for that guard returnin' unexpectedly, you would have pulled it off without a hitch."

"That's right. It was just a fluke that he doubled back. But, I'm guessing if Chief had been with us, he would have noticed in time to warn me, and I could have hidden myself before the guard got close enough to spot me. I'm not unhappy with the way things went, though. I'm very pleased that they were able to get us all out safely without my help."

"Yes, you have to give them credit for that. An' you have Actor to thank fer savin' yer life."

Garrison frowned. "I thought this was just a flesh wound."

Campbell shook his head. "The bullet severed a small artery, Lieutenant. Ye can still bleed t' death from something like that. Actor used a tourniquet t' stop the bleedin' when direct pressure didn't work. He saved your life." 

Garrison closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He hadn't realized he'd had such a close call. "I'm glad to know the time we spent on first aid training didn't go to waste, then," he said. "I'll have to thank him when I see him next."

"That ye will, Lieutenant. Well, I have to be off to finish my rounds. Yer lads should be up t' see you after breakfast."

"Good. I'm anxious to hear what went on while I was down for the count. Thank you for stopping by, Doctor."

"Yer welcome, Lieutenant."

After he had left, Garrison waited for a minute, then called out softly, "Chief?"

"Yeah, Lieutenant?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." There was a long pause. "Warden?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you really mean what you said 'bout this wouldn't have happened if I'd been there?"

"What do you think, Chief? Would you have missed seeing that guard?" Garrison knew the answer already. He'd never met anyone as alert and observant as Chief. Even when injured and in a great deal of pain on their previous mission, he'd still managed to save them from walking into a German patrol.

A slow smile spread across Chief's face. "Probably not," he said softly, "probably not."

Dr. Campbell allowed Lt. Garrison to go home the following morning, leaving behind a very disappointed Chief. When Chief became angry over having to remain behind, Dr. Campbell quickly put him in his place.

"Let me make this clear to you, Chief. The sulfa hasn't worked as well as I expected against the infection. There's still a chance you could lose your arm, or even your life if it gets worse. Also, the Lieutenant tells me that the washroom facilities at your barracks are on the main floor, an' ye know full well you'd never be able t'manage the stairs on crutches until your arm heals some more."

Chief said nothing more after that, retreating into stony silence. When Dr. Campbell decided to try lancing one of the infected areas on his elbow in the hope that it would release some of the infection and help it to heal faster, his only response was, "Fine, let's get on with it."

Garrulous by nature, Colin kept up a stream of reassuring chatter as he made the preparations for lancing the elbow. Chief responded to his efforts to make conversation with monosyllables, grunts or wordless shrugs. When Dr. Campbell began to inject a local anesthetic, he was amazed to find that Chief showed no outward signs of pain even though he was injecting the drug into the most painful area of the arm. Only the clenching of his jaw muscles betrayed that he felt any discomfort at all.

When Dr. Campbell had finished the injection, Chief did let out a long, slow breath of relief.

"There," Campbell concluded, "we'll gie the drug a few minutes to work. Now, Chief, while we're cooling our heels, maybe you could level with me. You've been giving me the cold shoulder ever since I told you how serious this infection could become. What gives?"

Chief blinked in surprise at Colin's sudden switch to American slang. He had yet to discover that Colin Campbell could speak more languages than Actor, and could flawlessly mimic just about any accent he chose. "Nothing gives," he said, his face suddenly sullen and hostile. "It's nothing..."

Colin refused to get angry at Chief's denial. "Don't try to con me, Chief. I've been around the block a few times, and spent more time behind enemy lines than the whole of your group put together, the Warden included..." he chuckled suddenly at the surprised look on Chief's face. "You didn't realize I'd heard you call him that?"

Chief shrugged, and allowed himself a small smile. "We all do," he said, "Guess I'm just surprised to hear you do it."

"There's a lot of things about me that would surprise you, Chief," Colin said. "I know a lot about how an injured man thinks, and my guess right now is that you're scared and don't want to show it."

Chief's face was a blank mask as he struggled not to show his surprise.

"Am I right?" Colin prompted gently.

"Guess...guess..." Chief stammered. He sighed heavily and shook his head staring at the floor for a long moment. "All right," he continued after he'd had a chance to collect his thoughts, "I _am_ afraid. I'm afraid I won't recover from this enough to go back into action an' they'll send me back to jail. Especially if I lose my arm...if that happens, I won't survive a week back there! It's a scary thought."

Colin nodded in understanding. "Chief, I was only giving you a worst-case scenario, so that you wouldn't be so upset at not being able to go home. I apologize for frightening you. I doubt very, very much that it will come to that. I just wanted you to realize that if you don't take the time to recover, and follow doctor's orders, things could get a lot worse. Understood?"

Chief nodded. "Understood, Doc, an' I appreciate the apology. Guess we're all scared to think what might happen if we get hurt bad enough that we can't fight anymore. The Warden, he doesn't have to worry. He'll get a Purple Heart out of it an' a nice honourable discharge. Us, it's a different story."

Dr. Campbell rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, that is a problem. Doesn't seem fair, does it? I think it's something I'd like to bring up with your Lieutenant, or with Major Richards when I next get the chance. Now, are we ready to start here?" He poked Chief's elbow with his finger.

"Can you feel that?"

Chief shook his head.

"Good," Dr. Campbell responded, and pulled on his sterile gloves and picked up a scalpel.

Under the influence of the painkillers Dr. Campbell prescribe for him to relieve the fresh pain caused by the surgery on his elbow, Chief dozed most of the afternoon. Evening found him still slightly feverish, and restless as a caged bear. The nurses allowed him up in a wheelchair, and he spend part of the evening playing cards and talking with other injured soldiers in the patient's lounge. The other Gorillas dropped by on their way to the pub, but the end of visitor's hours found Chief alone in the lounge, and still wide awake.

Dr. Campbell found him there when he came to check on him just before going off duty, and, realizing his restlessness, challenged him to a game of darts.

Feverish and sick as he was, Chief won the first round handily. Colin was impressed.

"I should take you with me to the pub one night. Our team's always looking for fresh blood," he said. "I'm surprised you can throw so well with all the things agin' you right now."

Chief shrugged, and smiled at the praise."Maybe it helps me to focus, havin' to block out the pain."

"Could be. Challenges have a way of bringing out the best in people. But then, you've had a lot of practice with your knife..."

Chief nodded. "Nearly every day," he said. "Sorry I got the nurses upset."

Colin grinned, chuckling softly. The nurses had found Chief using the backdrop to the dart board as a target for his knife, and had demanded that he surrender the weapon to them, as weapons were strictly forbidden in the hospital, except for M.P.'s or police officers who were on duty.

"That blade's like a part of you, isn't it? You feel naked without it." Colin said.

Chief gave him a calculating look, but said nothing, and Colin knew from his response that he'd scored a bull's eye with that one.

They played another round, and Colin kept up a steady stream of chatter and questions, trying his best to draw Chief out. His guard lowered by the fever and drugs, Chief gradually began to open up.

"Where did you learn to play darts, Chief? Your father teach you?"

Chief all but flinched at the question. "Nope. My granddad did."

"What about your father, Chief? Was he good to you?"

"I...ah,... I never knew him."

"Ah! Did your mom tell you much about him?"

"No, she never talked about him."

"So, you don't know much about him..."

Chief was obviously becoming distressed. He put his darts down on the table, and turned to Dr. Campbell. "Doc, I want this to remain private. Promise me that..."

"I promise," Colin said, bending down so he could look Chief right in the eye. "Swear on the Good Book, if you like..."

"No, your word's enough for me. I trust you that much."

"Thank you," Colin said, knowing he'd been granted a special privilege by someone whose trust was very hard to win.

"It' bad enough being...a bastard. What makes it worse is knowing that your own mother doesn't even know who your father was. Doesn't even know for sure if he was White or Indian..."

Colin was silent, afraid of drawing a wrong conclusion, but Chief guessed his thoughts. "No, Doc, she wasn't a whore. Never that. But some white kids...young punks...they grabbed her one night an' gang-raped her. She told me she also had a boyfriend on the Reserve at the same time, and when he found out what happened, he dropped her like a hot potato, an' didn't want anything more to do with her...or me."

"That's sad," Colin said with genuine sympathy, "very sad. No wonder you don't like to talk about it! What happened to your mom?"

"Like I said yesterday, she died of a fever, when I was in my teens. They shipped my younger brother off for white folks to raise, but I refused to go. I ran away, an' struck out on my own."

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen, sixteen. Just a kid still."

"So, is that why you started to use a knife? You were too young to protect yourself without it?"

Chief shook his head. "Even before that, I always loved knives. We didn't have many guns on the reserve. It was the Depression, an' no one could afford them. Those that did had trouble gettin' enough money to buy ammunition. I learned to throw a knife instead. If you were good at stalkin, it was enough to get small game like rabbits or prairie dogs or prairie chickens to eat. An' if you missed, you could use it to dig some roots to boil for supper."

"So, how did you wind up getting in trouble with the law?"

Chief gave a helpless shrug. "You mean how could I avoid it? Stealin' was a matter of survival. No one would give an Indian kid work. The Children's Aid society do-gooders were still trying to get hold of me an' put me with some white folks in town. Now, maybe some of these folks really did have good intentions, but the ones I heard about used the Indian kids as free labour. A lot of the girls got used sexually too. Hell, I even heard about boys being used that way. Some of the priests weren't as high n' mighty as they made themselves out to be in the pulpit on Sunday!"

Colin nodded, suppressing a shudder of revulsion. It made sense. He suspected Chief had had to fight against being used as well. His finely chiseled mouth, smooth skin and dark, long-lashed eyes had a delicacy to them that would have attracted advances from those who preyed on young boys. Although tall, Chief was slender of build, and as a teenager, Colin doubted he would have stood much of a chance in a struggle with a full-grown man. No doubt the knife had been extremely useful, even necessary in fending off unwelcome advances. Colin considered asking about this, but decided it was too personal a subject for the moment. He switched to another tack.

"What about your brother? What happened to him?"

"We..uh, lost track of each other. The white people that adopted him said I was a bad influence." Chief gave a wry shrug. "Can't argue much with that!"

"But, he'd be an adult now, wouldn't he? Ever thought of contacting him?"

"How?" The question was rife with frustration and anger.

"The Red Cross could probably trace him down. If you give me his name and last known address, I'd pass it on for you. Would you like me to do that?"

Chief's face was a study in conflicting emotions. "I tried before, Doc, and the letters were always returned unopened. But, if you want to try again, suppose there's no harm." There was no mistaking the raw pain in his voice, and Colin wondered if his suggestion had been a good idea.

Impulsively, he put a comforting hand on Chief's shoulder, noting the heat of his skin, even through the fabric of his bathrobe, and the fine tremors running through his muscles.. "Why don't you sleep on that one? Maybe to risk another rejection is not something you need right now."

Chief nodded. "Maybe you're right," he said softly. "Thanks for askin', anyway."

"You're welcome. Now, shall we call it a night? You're still feverish, and need to get your rest."

"Guess I should turn in," Chief agreed. "Thanks for the game, an' for listenin'."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

By morning, Chief's fever was gone, and by the end of the week, Dr. Campbell allowed him to return to the mansion.

With Lt. Garrison still on sick leave, there wasn't much for the Gorillas to do and boredom and restlessness had already set in.

"The Sergeant Major is drillin' the tails off us so we don't get fat n' lazy," Casino complained. "I tell ya, it's enough to drive a guy crazy! If the Warden doesn't at least allow us to get out to the Doves soon, he's gonna have a mutiny on his hands!"

"What's up with the Warden and Dr. Campbell?" Chief asked. "I notice his car's been parked out there nearly all morning. Doesn't take _that_ long to check how the Warden's wound is healing!"

"We haven't a clue, mate," Goniff said. "The Warden ain't talking. We tried to find out an' he just put us off."

Actor smiled as he struck a match to light his pipe. "The Warden being the Warden...no doubt he will tell us when he thinks the time is right..."

"...an' not a second sooner," Casino finished.

Two days later, they found out what Garrison and Campbell had been planning behind closed doors. Typically, Garrison said little about it in advance, only mentioning that there would be a special training session in the morning, and that he wanted them all in the day room by 08:30, Chief included.

Exactly at the appointed time, Dr. Campbell and Garrison walked into the room. Campbell was without his white doctor's coat this morning, and both he and Garrison were in full uniform. Behind them was the Sergeant Major, carrying a tray laden with tea, coffee and assorted pastries.

"Help yourselves," Garrison said, when the Sergeant Major had put the tray down on the table, "then have a seat, and get ready to listen. I can guarantee you're going to find this very interesting. You already know Dr. Campbell in his role as a doctor. What you may not know is that he has been involved in intelligence work for a long time. I think we can all learn a lot from him. So, while Chief and I are recovering from our injuries, he has agreed to come and teach us some of what he knows. This morning's session will be just an orientation, but this afternoon we'll be doing some hands on training exercises."

When the cons had gotten their cups of tea and coffee and some pastries to nibble on, Dr. Campbell stood in front of them and, hands clasped behind his back, began to speak.

"The Lieutenant has told me a bit about each of you in the course of the last ten days, and I must say, you're an interesting bunch. I'm impressed by what I've heard so far, especially the way you successfully completed the last mission despite the Lieutenant's injury. Given that you've only been working together a short time, that was well done."

"Now, it's only fair that I tell you a bit about myself, and how I came to be involved in intelligence work. I attended medical school in German between the wars. I saw firsthand much of what took place during Hitler's rise to power. I was also involved with a volunteer medical corps of doctors during the Spanish Civil War and saw the horrors of war firsthand. Afterwards, I returned to Vienna to study psychiatry with Dr. Freud and his colleagues. Fortunately, I had the good sense to leave Austria before the Anschluss took place."

"Many of my friends in Germany and Austria were caught up in what was happening. Some are now fighting in German uniform. Others tried to protest what was going on. First they were warned to let well enough alone. If that didn't work, they were taken off to jail. Some returned, chastened, and bruised from beatings. Others did not. Many of my friends were Jewish, as was Dr. Freud. Those that did not leave the country prior to the Anschluss have now vanished without a trace."

"My family has a long military tradition, and eventually, I yielded to family pressure and sought a commission in the army. Due to my experience in Europe, I was soon approached by British Army Intelligence, and asked if I would work for them. This was several years before war was actually declared. By the time the first shot was fired, I was already an old hand at the spy game."

"After the outbreak of war, I continued to work for military intelligence and successfully completed many missions behind enemy lines. Then, one day, during a jump into France, my chute was hit by enemy flak as I floated to the ground. I made a bad landing on some boulders...just like Chief here, only I broke several vertebrae in my spine. By some miracle, the Germans never found us, and a young Lieutenant from my team managed to get me on board a plane, and ship me back to England. Doctors operated on my back, and after a lengthy recovery, I was able to walk again, and return to duty. I am no longer fit for active duty, but the need for skilled surgeons is such that the army has refused to allow me to be discharged from service. I am also very much in demand as an advisor and training consultant for British intelligence. However, I must warn you: my presence here this week is unofficial. The rivalry between British and American intelligence is such that I could not get official permission to act as a consultant. So, if anyone asks you what I am doing here, the official story is that I'm teaching a course in advanced first aid."

He grinned and nodded to Lt. Garrison, who picked up a large box which had been sitting near the door, and plunked it down beside the table. It was full of bandages and first aid supplies.

"Now, here's where things start to get interestin'" Campbell continued, rubbing his hands together, and rocking back and forth slightly on his toes. His quicksilver grey eyes were beginning to gleam. "During my time in Vienna, I worked with a loosely organized bunch of civilians. One of the best and most successful men in our group was someone who'd had numerous brushes with the law. He'd been in and out of trouble so often that he knew HOW to stay out of trouble, he knew just how the police worked an' thought. He also was an expert with locks, hot-wiring cars, and what my Irish kinfolk call 'the blarney.' In short, he had many of the skills this team has. Unfortunately, he was eventually arrested, and never came out of jail, but he was so successful at what he did that it started me thinking. It wasn't until I was laid up with my back injury that I had time to act on my idea, however. I made a proposal to Intelligence that we train a group of prisoners to work behind enemy lines..."

Goniff's blue eyes had gone wide with surprise. He could contain himself no longer. "Blimey!" he burst out. "So YOU'RE the bloke responsible for us being here?"

Dr. Campbell laughed. "No Goniff, not directly. The Americans copied my idea, which actually came originally from Prime Minister Churchill. Maybe that's why they're so adamant about not letting us work together. Each side wants to think it came up wi' the idea on their own!"

Actor gave a bark of laughter at that. He was all too familiar with international rivalries. "So, what is your group like, Major?" he asked curiously. "Is it much different from ours?"

"They have many of the same skills, Actor. One difference is that I insisted that every con chosen for training be reasonably fluent in either French, German or Italian, and they've had a lot of coaching to bring their language skills to a point where they could pass a routine interrogation by the Germans. They might not be able to fool the Gestapo, or an expert in languages, but they can certainly handle being stopped at a German Army checkpoint. "

"How long have they been together?" Casino asked.

"About a year, now. I originally started out with six men. We lost one of the original members a few months ago, but we gained a new member, so we've still got the same number."

"Whaddya mean, lost one? He was killed by the Germans?" Casino asked.

Campbell nodded. "Yes, he died in prison." The cons exchanged sick glances. It was their worst fear come true.

"So, if you're not fit for active duty, Major, who leads these men on their missions?" Actor queried.

"Their commander is the same young officer who got me out of Germany after I'd broken my back," Campbell responded. "I only work in an advisory role, and assist with training, though I had to take a more active role when their C.O. was injured during one of their earlier missions."

The cons peppered Major Campbell with questions about his men for several minutes. Campbell was deliberately vague with certain details, and several times had to tell them, "Sorry, I can't answer. That's classified information."

When they had at last satisfied their curiosity, Campbell turned the tables on them and began to ask them questions about their past missions, carefully drawing out details about how they operated. Garrison could have given him the information, but he wanted to hear it from them in their own words, so he could get a more accurate picture of personal strengths and weaknesses and team dynamics. He also asked them about their civilian lives...what jobs they had held and what skills they had picked up in school or at work. Garrison was amazed at how easily he drew information out of even the usually taciturn Chief. The cons revealed things about themselves to him that Garrison would never have suspected or even thought to ask about.

By the time they broke for lunch, Campbell was grinning jubilantly as he and Garrison retired to Garrison's office for some private conversation.

"You've got the makings of a good team, Lieutenant," he complimented him as they sat down at the desk. "This afternoon should be really interesting. I'm looking forward to it."

"What do you plan to do with them?" Garrison asked.

"I think we'll start with the obstacle course, something they know already. Only, I plan to throw a few curves at them, just to see how they cope with surprises."

After lunch, Campbell changed into combat fatigues, and escorted the cons to the obstacle course. Chief followed, hobbling slowly along with the help of a cane. Colin had asked him to come, without revealing why, and Chief had asked no questions.

Colin saw them exchange bored glances as he requested that they run the obstacle course one at a time, with Garrison and the Sergeant Major firing blanks over their heads to make the exercise more realistic. He smiled to himself, knowing they were in for a surprise. Actor and Casino got through the course in good time without incident. Goniff was halfway through, when Major Campbell unexpectedly opened fire from the side of the course, pinning him down. He was not firing blanks, either.

"You're pinned down by crossfire, soldier," he yelled. "What do you do?"

Goniff had crawled back into the shelter of a brick wall, and made no response.

"I said, what do you do, Goniff?" Campbell demanded, more loudly this time.

"Wait for Chiefy to circle around behind ya!" Goniff yelled, sounding somewhat desperate.

"Chief only has one good leg and can't help you! WHAT are you going to do?" Campbell shouted.

There was a faint noise behind him, and Major Campbell began to turn, just as a strong arm fastened itself around his windpipe, and something pointed thrust up against his ribcage. Reacting out of years of training, Campbell dropped and stepped abruptly backwards, coming down hard with his heel. His attacker's foot was not where he'd expected it to be, but the move had been enough to unbalance him. Campbell grabbed the arm at his throat with both hands and spun abruptly around, using the momentum of his spin to throw a very surprised Chief to the ground.

"Sorry, Chief," he apologized, as he helped the somewhat winded con to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, Major, just fine." He gave Campbell a reassuring smile. "But..."

"But I'm dead, right?" Colin finished, grinning.

"Right," Chief acknowledged, giving his switchblade a quick spin between his fingers, then snapping it back into its sheath.

Colin noted that it had not been open during his attack, something he found oddly reassuring.

"Well done, Chief. You really took me by surprise. I'm impressed. I shouldn't have written you off like that just because you're injured. All right, the rest of you come here," he called.

"What just happened is exactly the sort of thing I'm hoping to see...all of you working as a team to get each other out of trouble, and to keep each other alive. You need to learn to think creatively and cope with the unexpected. Now what would you have done if Chief hadn't surprised me?"

"I guess Actor or I would have had to do the same thing," Casino offered.

"Yes. Now what else could you have done other than sneak up behind me?"

"Thrown a grenade, or fired at you from the top of that wall over there," Actor suggested.

"Yes, good. The wall would have been a last resort. Why?"

"Too exposed," Chief volunteered.

"Exactly!" Colin agreed. "All right, let's try it again. Only this time, you have an injured man with you that you have to get safely through. Chief, that's why I asked you to come along. Now, how are you going to do it?"

Garrison stood nearby and watched, trying hard to keep a grin of delight off his face. In their private conversation over lunch, Campbell had detailed what he thought to be the team's strengths and weaknesses. One of those weaknesses was Chief's tendency to be a lone wolf. Garrison had agreed, then both of them had seen their misgivings blow right out of the water by Chief's surprise attack. It was an unexpected victory.

Garrison could also plainly see the reason behind what Colin was asking them to do now. Chief would have to put his trust in the team to get him safely through the obstacle course. It would be a difficult experience for a man who hated to be dependent on others, and disliked being touched. He silently applauded Colin for his shrewd judgment. He watched with great interest as they discussed just how to do it. Colin was helping them work it through, with a clear concern for Chief's safety. His keen questions forced Chief to be totally honest about his physical limitations, and what the others were going to have to do to help him.

The planning stage went well, but when they actually started to put it into practice, Chief was in trouble from the very start. Several times he refused the assistance that was offered to him, and Colin could see his tension and reluctance building when he was forced to allow them to help him across the obstacles. It wasn't just resentment Colin sensed coming from him either. It was pure rage.

At last he exploded, turning on Goniff, who was trying to boost him up so he could grab hold of the top of one of the walls.

"You lousy Limey!" he gritted, and threw a punch at Goniff's head. Caught totally by surprise, Goniff was knocked to the ground. Before Chief could go after him again, Major Campbell quickly moved in and grabbed him. Chief tried to fight him off, but soon wound up on the ground, with one arm twisted up between his shoulder blades, and Colin's knee in the small of his back.

"Enough, Chief!" Campbell rapped. "Knock it off!"

"All right, all right!" Chief gasped. Colin was twisting his sore arm, and it hurt. "Lemme up!"

Colin released him, but stayed nearby, making sure he was positioned between the two of them. "Goniff, are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. What the bloody hell did ya have to deck me for, Chief? I was just trying to help you!"

Campbell looked at them, wanting them to find the answers on their own. "What do you think is going on here? Any idea? Casino?"

Casino met Campbell's eyes then quickly looked away. They all seemed slightly embarrassed by what had happened. "All I know is that Chief hates to be touched,"Casino said. "Guess it's 'cause he was beaten up real bad workin' on a chain gang once an' almost died."

Actor nodded. Chief's eyes were fastened on the ground, and he would not look at any of them.

"Is this true, Chief?" Colin asked.

"You know it's true," Chief responded stiffly, without looking up. "You seen the scars on my back."

"Well, I think we're dealing with more than just the memory of a bad beating here," Campbell said. "I saw exactly what triggered him to take a swing at you, Goniff."

"Yeah? What?" It was obvious from Goniff's puzzled expression that he hadn't a clue.

"You accidentally grabbed him in the crotch when you were trying to boost him up."

"Oh.." Goniff's fair face turned scarlet. "Geez, Chiefy, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean anything by it..."

Chief said nothing. His eyes remained fastened on the ground, his face sullen and unreadable. Colin could see the muscles in his jaw working as he struggled to contain his anger.

"Chief," he said gently, "were you raped in prison?"

For a brief moment, Colin though Chief was going to attack him. Colin made no counter move to defend himself, and the impulse died stillborn. Instead, he shot Colin a murderous glare, then unleashed his anger in a torrent of words. "Dammit," he raged, "What right have you, any of you to ask me about this? This is private...I don't want to talk about it!"

"Chief," Colin said, keeping his voice level in an effort to defuse the young man's anger, "I understand you not wanting to talk about it, and normally I don't like to pry into someone's personal life. But your behaviour is affecting your ability to perform as a team member, so this has to come out in the open."

Chief had taken out his knife, and was spinning it rapidly between his fingers. He flicked open the blade, and rammed it violently into the ground. Campbell refused to be intimidated by the open threat, and waited patiently. "Chief?" he prompted at last.

"The lousy, cowardly bastard!" he swore. "You're right, Doc, that's what happened. The scum that did it was too low to come at me when I was healthy. So he waited 'til I was laid up from being beaten half to death. Came at me one night in the prison infirmary..."

"Was he caught?" Colin asked.

Chief shook his head. "I knew who it was, but I had no proof, an' no one else saw. When I was out of hospital, though, I got him..." he gave a quick flick of his knife for emphasis."Slit his filthy throat!" He bared his teeth in an ugly smile of satisfaction.

"Did they pin it on ya?" Casino asked.

Chief grinned humourlessly. "They hadn't a clue who done it. Too many other cons wanting a piece of the lowlife bastard. I wasn't the only one he done the job on!"

Colin could sense the others starting to relax a bit now that they understood why Chief had reacted the way he did, but Chief was still on edge, ready to snap at the first wrong word or gesture. "Okay," Campbell said, "this is out in the open now. What do we do to put it to rest?"

Chief looked at Colin warily, then at the other cons. Goniff was rubbing his jaw where Chief's knuckles had connected. Chief gave a wry, apologetic smile. "Sorry, Goniff," he said.

"S'okay, mate," Goniff acknowledged. "I understand."

'This is the first time I ever talked about this," Chief continued. "It ain't easy. I...I just need to know that this is gonna stay private. No one's ever gonna tell."

Goniff looked puzzled. "C'mon, Chiefy. It's not like we think you're queer or somethin' just 'cuz someone did that to you..."

Colin held up a hand. "Goniff, Chief knows that. He also knows there are others who are just mean and low enough to use this against him. Right?"

Chief nodded in reluctant confirmation.

"Well, you have my promise." Actor stood up, and gravely extended his hand to Chief, and Chief shook it.

"Put it there, pal," Casino said, reaching across the low wall he'd been leaning against.

Goniff and Colin each shook his hand too, then they looked across to where Garrison stood on the catwalk which surrounded the edge of the course.

"Warden?" Chief called. "Guess you should be in on this too."

"All right, Chief," Garrison replied, and descended from his perch to join the group.

When he had shaken Chief's hand, they all turned to look at Major Campbell.

"All righty, lads," Colin said,"can we finish the course, now?" He looked at Chief, who gave a strained smile.

"Okay," he said, "I promise not to take a swing at anyone again. But someone gooses me deliberately, well, all bets are off!"

Campbell could tell from their shocked expressions that at first they didn't realize he was joking. Suddenly, Chief's face split into one of his rare grins, and the tension was broken. "C'mon, Limey," he said, nudging Goniff on the shoulder with his fist, "let's go!"

Goniff knelt at the base of the wall they'd been trying to climb, and Chief used his knee as a step, while Actor offered him a hand from the other side. Up and over, and on to the next obstacle. Chief was obviously struggling, due to the pain of his injuries, and the frustration of being handicapped by them, but his earlier anger and tension had eased. Colin watched closely, but was unable to tell if it was completely gone, or if he was carefully hiding it.

By the time he'd finished the course, he was disheveled and dusty and his shirt dark with sweat. Guessing he was also in more pain than he cared to admit, Colin offered him a canteen of cold water, and ordered him to go and sit in the shade to recover. He then turned to Lt. Garrison, who'd been leaning against one of the walls watching, a Schmeisser machine gun dangling from around his neck.

"We'll have a fifteen minute break, then it's your turn, Lieutenant."

Garrison stared at him in obvious surprise. He hadn't realized Campbell was planning to include him in this exercise.

"You're part of this team, too, Lieutenant," Campbell reminded him, reading his expression.

"Can't argue with that," Garrison acknowledged, wondering at the uneasiness he was feeling.

Goniff grinned. "Not again!" he protested. "At least the first time we didn't have to lug you through a bleedin' obstacle course! Hey, you sure you're up to this with your arm an' all?"

"If Chief can do it with only one good arm and leg," Garrison reminded him, "it should be a piece of cake for me!"

"Yeah, maybe for _you_ , Warden," Casino gibed, "but _we_ _'_ _re_ the ones doin' all the work!"

"Oh yeah?" Chief called from the seat he'd taken in the shade of one of the walls, "then how come I'm the one sweatin'?"

Major Campbell listened with interest to their banter, noticing that Garrison did not take part in it. When the 15 minutes was up, he turned to Craig.

"I don't want you using your left arm for this," he said. "Put it in the sling and keep it there. There's too much risk of you damaging it further."

"What about the machine gun?" Garrison asked.

"If this were a mission, you wouldn't leave it behind, now, would you?"

"Not likely," Garrison agreed.

"All right, Casino, Goniff, Actor, let's go," Campbell called. "If you catch him trying to use his bad arm, yell at him. If you don't _I_ will."

They all grinned at that, and Actor motioned him towards the first obstacle with a sweeping bow.

"After you, Lieutenant," he said.

It was much easier for Garrison to negotiate the obstacles than it had been for Chief. At least he had two good legs to provide leverage. It was hard work, though, and with the afternoon sun beating down on the enclosure, he soon found himself drenched with sweat. He found his temper starting to get snappish too, more so as the arm began to throb with the unaccustomed activity. He tried to follow Colin's admonishment, but in the sections of the course where he had to crawl on his belly, it was almost impossible not to use the arm for leverage.

After the third obstacle, Major Campbell called a halt, and ordered everyone to take a short break to cool off. He beckoned to Garrison, and the two of them walked a distance away, out of earshot of the others.

"You're struggling with this," Campbell observed bluntly.

"It's hard work," Garrison agreed.

"Maybe if you gave over a bit more control it wouldn't be so hard. You have difficulty doing that. It's natural for someone in command to want to be in control, but you have to know when to let go. Trust them, Lieutenant. They've earned it. Especially after last week."

Garrison was too surprised by Campbell's observations to know what to say. At last he merely nodded. "All right, Major, I'll try to do that. I didn't realize..."

Campbell smiled knowingly. "Yes, you weren't aware of it. That's why I called you over."

Before they resumed the course, Garrison confessed the difficulty he was having to the cons. Goniff was the first to offer a suggestion. "Maybe a rope would help. If we tied you to it, and kept a gentle pull on it, to give you some leverage..."

"That might work," Garrison agreed. "Let's try it."

Casino fetched a coil of rope, and they fixed it around Garrison's upper body, only to find the Schmeisser was getting in the way.

"Maybe one of us oughta take the machine gun," Casino suggested.

"And leave me weaponless?" Garrison asked.

"You still got your pistol," Goniff pointed out.

"Let's suppose this was a mission and you were just freshly wounded," Major Campbell put in. "Would you be capable of using the Schmeisser?"

"Maybe not," Garrison confessed after a moment's thought. "Even today, when I was firing blanks, I had trouble with the gun's recoil, and had to brace it ontop of the wall."

Campbell looked at him, eyebrows raised, amusement dancing in his grey eyes.

Garrison sighed in resignation, and handed the gun to Actor. "All right," he said, "let's give it a try."

It worked quite well, he quickly discovered. The pull of the rope gave him just that extra bit of leverage he needed, though it was hardly a comfortable way to make progress. Sand stuck to his skin, and found its way inside his shirt. It was a relief to finish that section of the course, stand up and brush himself off.

The rest of it went more smoothly. When he needed help with one of the higher walls, he was surprised to find out just how inventive both Casino and Goniff were at rigging ropes.

"No different from hoisting a safe," Casino said with a grin, as he helped Garrison into the rope sling they'd rigged.

Garrison laughed. "Just don't try to crack me open," he joked.

"The yolk would be on us then," Goniff punned, and they all laughed.

When the course was done, Major Campbell clapped his hands together in satisfaction. "Well done!" he exclaimed. "Now, let's hit the showers, and head off for a nice cold drink. Tab's on me!"

The Gorillas stared at him in amazement. Garrison grinned. He and Colin had discussed this in advance, so it came as no surprise to him. "Well come on," he urged, "don't just stand there gaping! The man's offering to buy you drinks! Let's get a move on!"

Actor was the first to find his voice. "Thank you, Major," he said. "Very kind of you."

The others chorused their thanks, and they started back to the Mansion with something more than their usual speed, Chief hobbling along painfully in their wake.

Campbell fell in beside him. "I'll get you some ice to put on that for a bit," he said.

"Thanks, Doc, but I'm okay."

"That was an order, not a suggestion, Chief." Campbell countered.

Chief shot him a defiant glare, but said nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter7

Half an hour later Campbell and Garrison, freshly showered and dressed in clean uniforms, ascended the stairs to the Gorillas' quarters. They found Chief still lounging on his cot in his underwear, the ice bag on his foot.

"Aren't you coming, Chief?" Garrison asked.

"Says he's too tired," Casino said. "Too tired for free drinks...Chief you really are a party pooper!"

"I don't drink much an' you know it!" Chief shot back.

"Too bad you're not coming," Campbell put in. "I was looking forward to beating you at darts."

That got a reaction. Chief scowled darkly. "You were, were you? What made you think I was gonna lose?"

"Well, since you're so tired from your strenuous day..."

Chief sat up and reached for his shirt and pants, the barest hint of a smile beginning to show on his lips. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, they all knew the real reason he hadn't wanted to go. There was no hiding the pain as his injured foot began to throb from the change of position.

"Use the crutches if it's that painful," Campbell suggested. He quickly crossed the floor and crouched down in front of him. "Let's have a look at it. You've been on it a fair bit today."

He quickly unwrapped the elastic bandage, and Garrison pursed his lips in a silent whistle. He'd last seen the ankle shortly after the original injury, before all the bruising had had a chance to show. He was shocked at just how bad it still looked. Although the worst bruising was around the ankle itself, large purple-black marks on ankle and foot, the skin was mottled almost up to Chief's knee. No wonder he was still in pain.

Colin caught Garrison's gaze, and became aware of the others staring too. "You can wait outside if you want," he suggested, as he began to rewrap the ankle.

"How come the bruising's so extensive?" Garrison asked, when the others had left.

"He tore some muscles in his calf," Colin said. "Fortunately, the tears are minor, and should heal without problems, given sufficient time." He finished wrapping the leg, and handed Chief his crutches. "Okay, gimpy, let's go!"

"How much time, Major?" Garrison asked.

"At least another four weeks, I'm guessing. Try to rush it, and he might reinjure himself."

Chief pulled a wry face at that, and followed them out of the room.

Half an hour later they were all seated at their favorite table in the Doves, pints of beer in front of them. The pub had just opened, and aside from a few of the regulars, they had it to themselves. Garrison sat and nursed his beer, listening while Dr. Campbell bantered back and forth with the cons. He was amazed at the easy rapport he'd established with them in so short a time. _He_ _'_ _s a natural leader_ , Garrison thought, _and I bet he could teach Actor a thing or two about the confidence game..._

"Drink up, lad," he heard Colin urge Chief. "The dart board is waiting for us."

Chief had barely touched his beer. He smiled thinly at Colin. "You hopin' to get me tipsy so's you can have an easy win, Doc? Well, it ain't gonna work!"

Campbell grinned and snapped his fingers."Dash it! There goes my strategy, down the tubes! Not much of a drinker, are you, Chief?"

"You don't wanna see me drunk, believe me..."

"Get really rowdy, do you?" Colin asked. "Now this I'd like to see..."

There was a sudden chill in the air, but Colin kept on, hoping to find out more. "What are you like when you're drunk, Chief?"

Chief's eyes were suddenly downcast. "I ain't saying. Just hope you don't find out." he muttered.

Campbell glanced around the table curiously. None of them wanted to meet his eyes, except Garrison, who looked up briefly, then quickly glanced away again as he focused on lighting a cigarette.

"Lieutenant...have you ever seen him drunk?" he asked

"Once or twice," Garrison hedged.

"Yes," Actor volunteered, face all deadpan innocence, "you have to really watch him when he gets into the French wine..."

Chief's expression was more embarrassment than anger. "Lay off it Actor, that's all water over the dam now..."

"What happened?" Colin prompted, his gaze traveling around the table, and again falling on Garrison.

Garrison looked at the others. "You sure you want him to know about this?"

"Aw, why not?" Goniff prompted, looking at Chief.

Chief said nothing, merely stared uncomfortably off into space.

Sensing their approval, Garrison took the plunge."The story you got this morning about our first mission was the censored version, Major. The night Wheeler challenged my leadership, Chief had been into a bottle of French wine, and he..well...he decided to loan Wheeler his knife."

Chief's face darkened in embarrassment at the memory.

"What happened then?" Colin prompted.

"The Warden disarmed Wheeler," Actor volunteered, "and threatened to rip his throat out. He then gave us all a piece of his mind...called us "two-bit garbage can hoods!"

"Ouch!" Campbell chuckled.

"Mind you," Garrison continued, "I've since decided that they're the most talented bunch of hoods I ever could have picked to have on my side!"

There was a surprised silence at the table. "You really mean that, Warden?" Goniff asked at last, face almost comical in its earnestness.

"Well, yes, I do," Garrison said, grinning. "At least when you're not getting in to trouble, beating each other up, sneaking out of the Mansion for a drink at the pub..."

The tension dissolved in laughter.

"Warden, I figure by now we should at least have progressed to bein' "wastebasket hoods!" Casino suggested facetiously.

"You're in Blighty now," Goniff countered, "so it should be 'dustbin' hoods. An' I think we're worth a lot more than two bits now... at least a couplea quid!"

Garrison took the teasing in good humor, giving it back in kind, while Colin listened with interest. He knew now why there had been a distance between Garrison and his men this afternoon, also knew that he was probably seeing the healing of some of that distance. At last he turned and nodded to Chief.

"Ready when you are, Chief."

Chief took another token sip of his beer, and slowly eased himself to his feet. "Let's go, Major!" he said. "I got a couple a quid says you won't take a single game offa me today..."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The phone call came just as Garrison was about to step into the shower. He hastily wrapped a towel around his waist, and hurried into his office to answer it. As he picked up the receiver, his eyes went automatically to the clock on the wall.

 _Couldn't be a mission,_ he thought _, but Major Richards is usually the only one who calls me this early..._

Sure enough, it was Richards's voice on the other end of the line.

"Lieutenant Garrison?" he said, "I'd like to see you in my office, when you've got a few minutes. Something's come up that I'd like to discuss with you."

"Certainly, Major," Garrison responded. "How does 0830 sound?"

"That would be fine, Garrison."

"All right, I'll see you then, sir."

Garrison hung up the phone, and returned to the bathroom to finish his interrupted shower, then got dressed, and walked to the mess hall for breakfast with the rest of his team. Consumed with curiosity about the phone call, he paid scant attention to the usual breakfast time banter.

"Whatssmatter, Warden?" Casino demanded at last "Cat got your tongue this morning, or have you been spending too much time around Chief?"

That garnered Casino a hostile glare and a punch on the arm from the Indian. "I talk when I got somethin' worth sayin'," Chief retorted, "You know what my granny used to say? 'An empty kettle makes the most noise!'

Casino flushed darkly as the others erupted into laughter. "Well said, Chief," Actor chuckled. "You got him that time! But you do seem unusually preoccupied this morning, Lieutenant. Something on your mind?"

Garrison shrugged. "Richards wants to meet with me in his office after breakfast, and I'm just wondering what's up. You guys haven't been into trouble lately, have you?"

Surprised looks greeted his question.

"Not that I'm aware of," Actor responded, smiling. "Goniff, you haven't been doing a little second- story work on the side while the rest of us were sleeping, have you?"

"ME?" The slender, blonde thief's voice went up an octave in hurt innocence. "Why would I ever do a thing like that...why you guys know..."

"Yeah, yeah, you'd steal the pennies offa the eyes of a dead man if you got half a chance!" Casino interrupted. "So, what do you think's up, Warden? A mission?"

Garrison shook his head. "Dr. Campbell still hasn't passed me as fit to resume active duty," he replied, "so I don't know what he could possibly want. Guess I'll just have to wait and find out!"

Exactly at the appointed time, Garrison arrived at Richard's office, and was immediately shown in by his receptionist.

Richards greeted him warmly, smiling and shaking his hand. "Good to see you, Lieutenant. Have a seat. Would you like a coffee?"

"Thank you, sir, yes, I would."

Richards poured the coffee himself, from a metal carafe on his desk, and Garrison helped himself to cream and sugar.

"So," Richards said, when they both had their cups in hand, "how's the arm?"

"Doing quite well, sir. Major Campbell says I should be fit to go back to active duty in another week or two."

"I see," Richards mused. "Any chance it could be a little sooner?"

Garrison's stomach lurched. "A mission, sir?" he asked, looking at the file folder lying on the desk in front of the Major.

"Yes, Lieutenant, one that is particularly suited to your team's skills. We need to break someone out of jail."

"How soon, sir?"

"As soon as possible. The Germans have captured a top Belgian scientist, and are holding him in a prison in France. A real prison, not just a P.O.W. camp. This place has high walls, alarms, iron bars, the works. They even have surveillance cameras. We want to try to get him out before he's forced to spill what he knows to the Nazis."

"I'd like to be able to help, sir, but I'll have to see what the doctor says. And we'll have to go without Chief. He can't risk jumping until his leg is fully healed."

"Will that be a problem, Lieutenant? Your team seemed to manage your last mission all right without his help."

"That they did, sir," Garrison acknowledged with a smile. "No, I think we should be able to pull this off without him. Can you tell me more about the prison?"

In response, Richards opened up the folder, and removed an aerial photograph and a detailed pencil sketch from it. "Here's a photo of the grounds, and here's a map detailing what we know of the defenses. The surveillance cameras are the red 'X' marks on the map. We have a contact with the local resistance cell in the area. They can get you in and out, and provide transport. The rest will be up to you. We don't have a contact inside the prison."

Garrison studied the two pieces of paper carefully. "It's certainly well fortified," he said. "May I take these with me, Major?"

"By all means, show them to your men, and see what they can come up with. I'd also like you to see if you can get Dr. Campbell on the line, to ask him if he thinks you'd be able to risk going on this mission."

"Ah, I don't think that will be necessary, sir. He's planning to drop by to see me later this morning."

"Good, Garrison, good. Get him to have a look at you, and if he thinks you're fit, ask him to put it in writing, and send it to me. Okay?"

"I'll do that, sir. Can you tell me anything more about these cameras? How do they work?"

"Have you ever heard of television, Garrison? The view from each of the cameras shows up on a television screen inside the prison. Each camera has its own screen. A guard is on duty 24 hours a day, watching the screens. It's quite a sophisticated setup."

"I see," Garrison mused. "Wonder if Casino has ever had any experience with something like this?"

"Won't hurt to ask him," Richards said. "I'll expect you to report back to me by noon as to whether this mission is a go. If not, we'll have to send in another team."

"I understand, sir," Garrison said, rising to his feet. "I'll let you know. Even if we can't go, maybe the men can come up with some suggestions for getting this scientist out."

"That would be a big help," Richards agreed. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

Dr. Campbell was waiting for him in his office when Garrison returned to the mansion. His lips curved into an ironic smile when he saw the briefcase in Garrison's hand.

"Don't tell me, let me guess: Bonchère Prison," he said, pointing at the briefcase.

"Right you are, Major. How did you know?"

Campbell's amusement turned sour. "We lost one of our most reliable couriers getting that photo and map back to England."

Garrisons let out a hiss of breath. "Sorry to hear that, Major," he said quietly. "What are the chances of you allowing me to go on this mission?"

"I think your team has the best chance of success of anyone we could send in there, Garrison, and you won't need a perfectly sound arm to do a parachute jump," Campbell responded. "I'm willing to bend the rules a little bit. Close the door, take your shirt off, an' let's have a look at ye."

Campbell's examination of the arm was relentlessly thorough. He found that Garrison had freedom of movement of the arm in all directions, although certain movements were still quite painful, and the arm lacked strength.

"Well?" Garrison demanded, when Campbell had finished his examination, and told him to put his shirt back on.

Campbell did not respond immediately. He was perched on the corner of Craig's desk, tapping a reflex hammer against the palm of his hand, his expression preoccupied and thoughtful. "You'll pass," he said at last, "as long as you don't have to put the arm under a lot of strain. Leave the climbin' an' second story work to the rest of your team. Are you planning to brief them right now?"

Garrison nodded. "Richards wants to know before noon if the mission's a go. Might as well show it to them now."

"Yes. Mind if I come along? I may have some suggestions for dealin' with those cameras."

"I'll be glad for your input, Major."

They left Garrison's office, and climbed the stairs to the con's barracks. When Garrison and Campbell entered the room, and the Gorillas saw the tell-tale briefcase in his hand, all activity in the room came to an immediate stop.

"Not a mission, Warden," Actor protested, looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

"Yes, Actor, a mission," Garrison confirmed.

"Aw, you're joking!" Goniff grumbled in disgust, throwing down the deck of cards he'd been dealing. "Ow come? You're not fit yet, an' neither is Chiefy!"

"The Lieutenant is fit enough to do a jump, but Chief will have to sit this one out," Major Campbell said.

"Come on," Garrison prompted, "I'd like you all to have a look at this. We have to do a prison break. Should be right up your alley!"

"Break someone out?" Casino guessed, taking a quick peek at the cards Goniff had dealt him before tossing them down on the table. He was secretly glad for the interruption: he'd lost the last three hands, and this one didn't look any better.

"Yes, a Belgian scientist, and we have to do it soon, before the Gestapo picks his brains. Come have a look at this, and tell me what you think."

They all gathered around the table in the middle of the room, except for Chief, who remained sitting at the card table.

"Chief, I'd like your input on this too," Garrison said. "You've done a few prison breaks, and you might see something useful."

Chief tossed down the deck of cards he'd been shuffling, and sauntered slowly over to the table, his expression one of bored disinterest.

Garrison spread the map and the aerial photo out on the table. "Okay," he said, "here's the prison. The x's on the diagram mark surveillance cameras, which feed into television screens in a guard booth located here. They're watched 24 hours a day. The closest town is Bonchère, a small village of about 1,800 people. The prison was originally a civilian facility, and still has a large civilian population. The maximum security wing has been taken over by the S.S. and Gestapo for political prisoners. That's where they're holding Doctor Henriques, the man they want us to break out."

The Gorillas studied the photo and map carefully. Actor was the first to speak. "The obvious weak spot, Warden, is the woods which comes up to the edge of the fence at this point here. We might be able to break in there without being seen."

"What about these cameras?" Casino asked. "Any way we can knock 'em out without arousing suspicion?"

"With a guard on duty 24 hours? Not too likely, Casino," Garrison said.

"Well, they run off electricity, right? What if we staged a temporary power failure, long enough for us to get over the fence?"

"That might work," Garrison agreed, "but we still have to get into the maximum security wing, and get the Professor out."

"What's at stake here, Warden?" Actor asked. "What does this man know?"

"I'm afraid Major Richards didn't fill me in on that," Garrison confessed.

"He's a rocket scientist," Campbell volunteered. "He's developed a new type of rocket propulsion system that can deliver bombs anywhere in England, bombs that are about twice the size of anything their bombers can carry. They'd be powerful enough to level a whole city block."

Goniff gave a shrill whistle of amazement. "I hope I'm not 'ere when they start sending those over!"

Chief looked up from the drawings, and caught Garrison's eye.

"Question, Chief?" Garrison asked.

"Yeah. How do we know he hasn't already spilled his guts to the Gestapo?"

"He's only been there two days. Generally, it takes even the Gestapo a bit longer than that to wear down a prisoner's resistance. That's why we can't delay, though. We have to get in there fast, before he breaks."

"What other information do we have, Warden?" Actor asked. "Guard postings, things like that?"

Garrison shook his head. "We don't have a contact within the prison, Actor. Maybe our contact with the Resistance can tell us more, but for now, that's all the information I have. So, let's start hearing some ideas."

"Well to state the obvious, it will have to be an inside job, Warden," Actor said. There's just no way we can sneak into a facility this well protected. Possibly, if you and I go in as Gestapo or S.S. officers..."

"What excuse do we use for getting him out?" Garrison asked.

"Perhaps we could forge documents for a prison transfer," Actor suggested.

"Wouldn't that look a little funny when he's only been there a couplea days?" Casino said.

"That might arouse suspicion," Campbell agreed. "What about staging a mock execution?

That's one of the Gestapo's favourite tricks for breaking a prisoner's will."

"What then?" Goniff asked. "The rest of us come stormin' in to the rescue?"

"Could work," Garrison said. "Anything else?" He looked around the table. They all shook their heads, except for Chief, who was still staring at the aerial photo, a slight frown creasing his brow. Garrison waited for someone to break the silence.

"I been wonderin' if someone else would pick up on this, Warden," Chief said at last, flicking the photo with a long forefinger, "but since no one's mentioned it..."

"What is it, Chief?" Garrison prompted.

"Well, these cameras...there's one every...what?...two, three hundred feet or so, around the prison. The point is, they're spaced evenly, everywhere 'cept here." He pointed to the small woodlot which came right up to the perimeter fence.

"Yeah? So?" Goniff challenged.

"I'm willin' to bet there's a camera, or somethin' else guarding that little bit of woods. It just don't show on the photo."

Garrison looked at Chief in surprise for a moment, then grinned. "Very good observation, Chief. I never thought of that, but it certainly makes sense. We'll have to check it out before we go blundering in there."

"What about these cameras, Warden?" Casino wondered. "I wish I knew more about 'em, but I gotta confess, I never came up against 'em before."

"I don't know much about them either, Casino," Garrison said.

"I have a man on my team who does," Campbell put in. "He speaks excellent German too. Electronics engineer, grew up in Germany, graduated from Stamford near the top of his class."

"A college boy? Whadda we need a college boy for?" Casino sneered.

"You mean he's a con?" Goniff said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yes, a con," Campbell affirmed, smiling at their reactions. "Made a career out of circumventing the most sophisticated alarm systems in existence. Banks, jewellery stores, museums. He was doing quite well for himself, until he got caught."

"Sounds like it wouldn't hurt for him to come along on this mission, Major," Garrison said. "Is he available?"

"As a matter of fact, he is. He suffered a concussion on their last mission, so my team had to leave him behind, when they left several days ago. He's fine now though, and I'll be glad to volunteer his help."

"How soon can you get him here, Major?" Garrison asked.

"I'll give him a call right now, and tell him to get ready. I can have him here within the hour, if you want." He looked questioningly at Garrison.

"Are you sure it's all right for us to borrow him, Major?" Garrison said.

"Certainly, Lieutenant. I'm his C.O., an' he'll go where he's sent."

"What about the rivalry you mentioned between British and American intelligence?"

"I'll be blunt about it, Garrison. They're only jealous of sharing my skills and expertise. In spite of the success my team has had with their missions, they really don't pay much attention to them."

Garrison gave a rueful laugh. "Now, why does that sound familiar? Okay, Major, go ahead and give him a call. I think we're going to need him."

Roughly an hour later, Major Campbell's sedan pulled up in front of the mansion, and a young man climbed out of the passenger side. He was slender and blonde-haired, slightly taller and more muscular than Goniff. He wore a pair of wire-rimmed G.I. glasses, and Garrison's initial impression was that he was far too young and bookish to have ever been in trouble with the law. As he watched him climb the stairs, he was forced to re-evaluate his initial impression. The man moved lightly, with the grace of a dancer. He had a good pair of shoulders, broad and well muscled, and there was a stubborn, bullish set to the chin and jaw.

"Lieutenant Garrison?" he said.

"That's me, soldier."

"William Harper, sir, at your service." The somewhat truculent mouth curved into a warm smile, and he extended his hand.

Garrison shook it. "Welcome, Harper. Glad you could help out. Come on upstairs, and I'll introduce you to the team."

Garrison had warned his team in advance that he expected them to be on their best behaviour, so the greetings they gave the young man as he introduced them were polite, but wary. He could see the doubt in their eyes as they sized him up.

"Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet William Harper. Harper, this is Goniff, Chief, Actor and Casino."

"Welcome," Actor said, coming forward to shake his hand. The others all offered polite nods.

"Geez, Warden," Casino said, unable to restrain himself any longer, "we robbin' the cradle now? Billy-boy here hardly looks old enough to shave!"

Harper smiled. "That can be an advantage Casino. The sweet innocence of youth...no one thinks you could possibly do anything wrong! By the way, they call me Billy the Kid. William's a little too formal."

"Okay," Garrison said, deliberately cutting the conversation short, and shooting Casino a warning glare, "let's have a second look at this, and see if Harper...or Billy...can come up with any ideas."

They again gathered around the table, while Billy carefully examined the drawing and photo. He was silent for a long time.

"Who here speaks German?" he said at last, looking at Garrison.

"Myself and Actor."

"It's going to have to be an inside job, right?"

Heads nodded in confirmation.

"I've got an idea. We pretend we're security experts from another prison, and want to install a system similar to this. So, we need to know all about it. They show us the plans; let us poke around a bit. We sabotage the system in a way that can be triggered when we're ready to make our break. I don't think we can plan the details of just how we'll do that until we see what we're up against. Does this man have a guard on his cell all the time, for instance...that sort of thing."

Garrison had to smile at the looks of surprise on his men's faces. Colin's face was positively glowing with pride.

"Sounds like an excellent plan, Billy," Garrison agreed. "I'll get to work and see what I can do to come up with uniforms and I.D. for you. Actor, I'd like you to be the one to work with him. You know more about prisons than I do."

Actor nodded, looking at Billy with a new respect.

"Okay, gentlemen, we're scheduled to leave at 2100. Get your gear ready, then I suggest you try to get some rest. Billy, I'll have a cot brought upstairs for you. The guys will show you where everything is."

He gathered up the file and its contents, and left the room, Colin following close behind.

"So," Campbell murmured, when they were far enough away not to be overheard, "how long do you think it will be before they ...uh... 'try him on for size', as you Americans say?"

Garrison grinned. "Any moment now. Well, after the warning I gave them, they'll probably have the decency to wait until I'm out of the building..." he opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, and followed Campbell to his car.

Campbell was grinning too. "Who do you think will start it?"

"You know my men, Major. Who do YOU think it will be?"

"My guess would be Casino."

"Your guess would be right. And I'm betting Billy won't last too long against him."

"That's where you'd be wrong, Lieutenant. He was a lightweight boxing champ in his college days."

Garrison whistled softly. "So that explains the broad shoulders. Still, Casino doesn't have much respect for the Marquees of Queensbury's rules..."

Campbell grinned wolfishly, his eyes gleaming. "Billy can play rough when he has to. Care to put some money on the outcome, Lieutenant?"

Garrison laughed. "Why not? A ten-spot says you're wrong."

"Ten quid, or ten dollars?"

"Dollars," Garrison said, his hand already going out to seal the bet. "and I'll buy you a drink at the Dove's if I'm wrong."

"Done!" Colin agreed.

Faintly, now, they could hear assorted bangs and crashes coming through the open window of the upstairs barracks room.

"Right on schedule," Colin observed dryly. "How long do we give them?"

Garrison shrugged, then winced at a particularly loud crash. "Let's make it another minute or so. This happens all the time, and no one's been killed yet..."

As the door closed behind Garrison and Campbell, Casino turned to Billy. "So, you're the college boy, huh? Where'd you do time?"

"Kingston Pen," Billy replied.

"Where's that?" Casino said.

"Ontario. That's in Canada, in case you didn't't know."

"Yeah, yeah, I know where Ontario is, smart guy! So if you're so smart what were you doin' in stir?"

"Same thing you were, loudmouth! Twenty year sentence for grand theft." Harper was grinning sharkishly.

"Hey, you seen my record? Thought that stuff was confidential." Casino was obviously annoyed.

"Not if you know how to pick a lock." Harper's grin widened. He hadn't actually seen the file, but Campbell had told him about Casino's record and after the comments Casino had made about him, he'd decided to use the information to bait him.

"Ah, c'mon youse guys," Goniff pleaded. "Lay off it, huh? You know what the Warden said..."

"Warden, schmorden!" Harper scoffed. "You want a piece of me, tough guy, go ahead!" He removed his glasses, placing them on the table.

Casino cast an inquiring glance at Chief, who was sitting by the window. "Warden's outside, talking to Major Campbell," he told Casino.

Casino wasted no further time. His left shoulder was towards Billy, so he brought his right fist up, fast and hard, into Billy's stomach...

Only his target wasn't there anymore. Billy had taken a quick step backwards, and Casino's punch went whistling harmlessly past his chin. While Casino was still off balance from his roundhouse swing, Harper stepped forward, and delivered a straight-arm left to his jaw.

"Comes in handy being a southpaw sometimes," he murmured, as Casino backed off a step, shaking his head.

Casino began to wonder if he'd started something he wouldn't be able to finish. Harper's left had not connected solidly...if it had, he knew he'd be stretched out senseless on the floor. As it was, he was seeing stars, and the room was spinning.

Harper made no move to follow up his temporary advantage, however. He waited for Casino to make the next move.

As Casino's head cleared, his temper began to boil. Who the heck does this guy think he is, anyway? His fists came up, and more cautiously this time, he circled Harper, looking for an opening.

"Come and get me tough guy!" Harper taunted. "Betcha thought I was a pantywaist, just because I've got some book learning. Well, there's another school I went to you might know about. Called 'the school of hard knocks!' You think it was easy being a Jew in Germany? Some of the stuff I've seen would turn your hair white, pretty boy!" He lashed out suddenly, catching Casino on the head, and followed up with a flurry of blows.

Casino warded them off, covering his face with his arms. Damn this kid was FAST!

He lifted his knee abruptly, to gain a little breathing space, and Harper backed off, bouncing on the soles of his feet.

"Oh, you want to fight dirty, do you?" Billy said. His voice had at first sounded completely American, but now, as emotions began to run high, a faint German accent began to creep through. "Well, I will be most glad to oblige!"

The next punch was aimed low and hard and below the belt. Casino had been expecting something like this, and easily avoided it, getting in a quick jab at Harper's face as Billy bent to make the punch. He was rewarded with the solid smack of bare knuckles on flesh, though Harper turned his head at the last moment, so the blow did little damage.

Billy followed up with a flurry of blows to Casino's head and body. They came so fast that Casino could do little except fend them off as best he could. A right hook caught him solidly on the jaw, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting on the floor, shaking his head, and spitting blood from a cut on the inside of his mouth.

Harper stood over him, fists at the ready. "Had enough, bully-boy?"

Casino made no reply. He attempted to stand up, but a wave of dizziness quickly changed his mind.

"Casino?" Harper said. "Do I have to knock you cold to make you quit?"

"You just might," came Garrison's voice from the doorway. "He's that stubborn!"

"Uh-oh..." Goniff said. "Warden, I tried to stop 'im, honest I did..."

"What's this all about, Casino?" Garrison queried, trying to fix Casino with his angriest glare, and finding it difficult to keep a straight face.

"Warden...uh..." Casino seemed to be struggling to focus his eyes, as he dabbed blood from his mouth. "Well, uh, we was talking..."

"Yeah," Billy supplied, "just having a friendly discussion..."

"It got a bit out of hand, did it?" Colin supplied, eyes twinkling, as he struggled to suppress a smile.

"Yeah," Billy agreed, "it did." He offered Casino a hand up. "No hard feelings, huh? Just a little misunderstanding..."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, just a misunderstanding, Billy-Boy. Where'd you learn to fight like that? The don't teach stuff like that in college!"

"As a matter of fact, they do." Harper said. "I was Golden Gloves boxing champ in my senior year, though I'd already learned street fighting to defend myself long before that."

"Well, ya coulda fooled me..." Casino mumbled, rubbing his aching jaw.

"It just goes to show you, Casino," Actor put in, "never judge a book by its cover!"

"I hope that will be the last of this, Casino," Garrison warned. "One more stupid move like that, and you're off this mission. If you or Billy had hurt each other, marked each other or broken a hand, I might have been forced to scrub the mission, and pass it over to another team."

"Yeah, I hear you, Warden," Casino said. "I'll take it easy on 'im from now on, now that he's been broken in."

Garrison couldn't help himself. He began to chuckle. "Offhand, Casino, I'd have to say you're the one who looks like he's been 'broken in'!"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Garrison paced the attic hideout of their Resistance contact restlessly. It had been more than four hours now since Actor and Billy had left for the prison, and aside from one carefully worded phone call from Actor, he'd had no contact with them since. Casino and Goniff had left too, in a separate vehicle, to keep an eye on the prison from a distance, and see what they could discover about its defenses. Garrison had decided to stay behind, man the telephone and radio, and, if necessary, relay messages between the four men. It was not a role he was accustomed to, he realized reluctantly. He much preferred to be out there, in the thick of the action.

For the hundredth time, he went to the tiny hexagonal attic window, and peeked out at the street below. It was nearing four o'clock, and traffic in the street was beginning to pick up as the workday drew to a close. The noise filtering up from the pub and restaurant below was growing louder, as workers came in for an after-work pint of beer.

A car drew up in front of the pub, and Garrison stiffened, straining to see details through the dirty pane of glass. A slender, blonde haired man in uniform got out of the car, then the driver of the car pulled ahead, looking for a parking spot.

 _Billy,_ Garrison thought. He watched as Actor finished parking the car, then followed the young man into the pub.

Garrison continued to watch, waiting for Casino and Goniff. Less than a minute later, a second car drew up, and two men got out. Although they were in civilian dress, something about their demeanour, even at a distance, set off alarm bells in Garrison's brain. _Gestapo, I'm willing to bet,_ he thought.

He continued his vigil. Soon, his patience was rewarded. The battered, non-descript delivery van carrying Goniff and Casino drew up in front of the pub, and Goniff hopped out and hurried inside, while Casino continued on down the street, in search of a parking spot. He found one half a block from the pub, pulled into the curb, then he, too headed for the pub at a brisk walk.

They did not immediately come upstairs, and Garrison waited with growing impatience. At last, he heard the sound of footsteps on the wooden staircase. He pulled his pistol, and waited, flattened against the wall by the door.

" _Donner_ ," Actor's voice called the pre-arranged password through the door.

" _Rühe_ ," Garrison responded, and reached to unfasten the lock.

The four of them filed into the room.

"What took you so long?" Garrison demanded impatiently, when he'd locked the door behind them.

"We were tailed from the prison," Actor responded. "Fortunately, Goniff and Casino noticed, and warned us while we were downstairs."

"Yeah, I saw the two men who came in hot on your heels. Looked like Gestapo."

"Could be," Harper said, grinning, "Anyway, we made sure they got waylaid by one of the bar girls, so we could give them the slip."

Actor smiled. "Not that they were terribly interested mind you, but Elise can be... shall we say...very persuasive?"

"Good," Garrison said. "I hope she leaves them both with a raging hard-on. What did you find out?"

"Well, first the good news, Warden. They let us take detailed plans of the prison with us so we could look over the wiring diagrams for their security system." Billy laid his briefcase on the table, and began to unfasten the handcuff, which shackled it to his wrist. Once it was open, he spread the drawings out on the table.

"The bad news is the place is a goddamn fortress. Cameras, alarms, guards...they even have two cameras hidden in that little grove of trees at the edge of the fence, and the ground outside the fence is mined..."

Casino and Goniff exchanged glances at that. Casino had gotten bored during their afternoon of surveillance, and suggested they check out the grove of trees for themselves, to see if Chief had been right. Fortunately, Goniff had vetoed the suggestion.

"I managed to get a copy of the guard postings, too," Billy continued. "They don't bother with guards in maximum security, because everyone's locked up all the time, except when they're being moved from one place to another. Then, they have an armed guard on either side of them, and a third one to go ahead and open doors."

"Did you get to see the Professor?" Garrison asked.

"Not in the flesh, but they got a camera in his cell, and I saw 'im on the television screen. He didn't't look too good. He was just lying curled up in his bunk."

"We'd better get him out of there fast, then," Garrison said. "Did you two come up with a plan?"

Actor and Billy exchanged pleased smiles. "We have everything you could need right here, Warden," Actor said. "Copies of transfer papers, official passes...even a form letter from the prison doctor, saying that in his opinion this prisoner needs hospital treatment."

"Great!" Garrison enthused. "That's exactly what we need. I'll get Dumay to put his forgers to work on them right away! They should be able to have the papers ready for us by morning."

"Who's going in, then?" Actor asked.

"I'll go as an SS officer...something high-ranking, so they'll be afraid to ask too many questions. Casino will be my guard, and Goniff, you'll be the driver. Billy, I'd like you to tap into the phone system to intercept any calls the prison commandant may make to verify the transfer papers."

"What about me, Lieutenant?" Actor asked.

Garrison shook his head. "I'm afraid you'll be recognized if you go back, Actor."

Actor gave him a hurt look. "I thought this was a team, Warden! I can disguise myself, you know that. And if I'm in uniform, well, people so rarely look past the uniform, especially if it's one of the lower ranks."

"Yeah, he's right Warden," Billy said. "Sides, how you gonna carry a stretcher with your bum arm? Ignoring the fact, of course, that such a menial task would be totally beneath the dignity of an S.S. officer?"

Garrison smiled wryly. "Okay, you got me on that one. Actor, we'll find you a uniform, and you can help carry the stretcher if he needs one. But try to slouch a bit so no one notices how tall you are..."

Actor gave his handsome head a regal nod, then deliberately straightened to his full 6' 4'' of height. "I will try to act the part, Warden, but I must tell you... gentlemen do NOT slouch!"

"Oooh, lissen to the gennelmun," Goniff teased. "I'll remind 'im of that the next time we're doin' 'and to 'and combat drill, and 'e's grindin' me mug into the dirt..." he ducked, as Actor aimed a playful cuff at his head.

"All right you two, cut it out!" Garrison warned, grinning in spite of himself. For all his gentlemanly airs, Actor could be downright vicious in a hand-to-hand fight, and he deserved Goniff's teasing rebuke. "Billy, you'd better get these plans out of here, before our friends downstairs manage to get away from the charms of Dumay's bar maid, and come looking for you."

"Right, Warden. Give me a few minutes, and I'll get the important stuff copied onto our map of the prison, then I can lock the briefcase in my room." He sat down at the table, and carefully leafed through the papers, removing the ones he'd lifted from the prison filing cabinet, and passing them to Garrison. "Might cause a leeetle bit of a problem if they found this stuff mixed in with the diagrams they loaned us...there ya go, Warden."

"Thanks, Billy. Good job, you two. I'd better get these passed to Dumay right now." Garrison stuffed the papers inside his shirt, and left the room.

 _So, all your worry was for nothing,_ he thought wryly. He had to admit he'd been concerned about how well Billy would fit into the team and how well he'd be able to perform under pressure. For the most part, his fears had been groundless. After Billy's initial fight with Casino, the team members had accepted him with open arms. They teased him mercilessly about his youth - two years younger than Chief, actually, who was 25, as near as Garrison could determine - but Garrison would have though there was something wrong if they hadn't. They asked him endless questions about growing up in Germany, and were stunned by his answers. It had given them all a whole new perspective on just why they were fighting this war. And, the first time they'd encountered German soldiers on this mission, Garrison had realized just how personally Billy took his own involvement in the war. The minute he'd spotted the hated Nazi armbands several of the officers were wearing, he'd gone rigid with anger. Garrison had been afraid he'd fire on the group of soldiers, and blow their cover. He'd been swift to calm down, though, when Garrison had put a warning hand on his arm.

Dumay was tending the bar, and when Garrison caught his eye, he immediately beckoned him to come over.

"Let's go into the kitchen," he murmured. "Elise is still keeping those two busy." He glanced over at the table where the bar maid was sitting with the two Gestapo agents.

Garrison followed him into the kitchen and showed him the papers Actor and Billy had obtained.

Dumay leafed through them, his bushy eyebrows climbing higher with each one.

"Your men are very good," he commented, when he'd seen them all. "I assume you want me to get you forged transfer papers to move him to the hospital?"

Garrison nodded. "How soon can you have them ready?"

"Tomorrow by eight o'clock, maybe earlier if it is needed."

"Eight will be fine," Garrison agreed. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

He returned upstairs to find that in his absence, Dumay's wife, Helene had delivered a large tray of food and drink to their room. There were even two carafes of the house wine, one red, and the other white.

"Actor said it wouldn't' be right fer us to start without yer, Warden," Goniff said in an aggrieved

tone, eyeing the food hungrily.

"That's because he wanted to make sure you an' Billy Boy didn't't scarf it all down before he got back!" Casino said. I swear, you two must have a coupela hollow legs!"

"Hey, I'm just a growin' boy!" Billy drawled in his best all-American accent. "Wouldn't want me to stunt my growth, would yah?"

At Garrison's invitation, they all sat down, and attacked the food with gusto. They were nearly done when there was a soft knock at the door.

Actor opened it, after asking for the password, and Dumay entered. His face looked flushed, and Garrison wondered if something were wrong. "What's up?" he asked.

"Eets Lise, my darling Elise...she has taken the two men..." his shoulders began to heave, and he tried to continue, but could not get the words out. Thinking he was sobbing, Garrison sprang to his feet in alarm. Dumay gestured for him to sit down.

"Do not alarm yourself," he gasped, and Garrison finally realized he was gasping with laughter. "Ohh...it is TOO funny...I cannot...cannot tell you..." he began to guffaw out loud. Soon tears of mirth were making their way down his bearded cheeks, as he bent nearly double in mirth.

At last, he mastered himself, and wiped away the tears. "She...shee has drugged them unconscious...in her room... I would like your help to ...dispose of them."

"You don't mean to kill them, Dumay?" Garrison asked, quite taken aback by this turn of events.

"No, no, not at all! I wish to relieve them of their wallets and dump them somewhere. It's a common story in this city. Many of the less scrupulous prostitutes will rob their customers if they get the chance."

Casino was grinning from ear to ear at the thought. "Rolled like a common drunk! That'll set 'em on their ear! The famous Gestapo!" He began to chuckle, which set Dumay into another paroxysm of laughter.

Garrison still was having difficulty seeing the humour of the situation. "When they come to, Dumay, won't they tear this place apart and throw you and Elise in prison?"

Dumay waved a hand in negation. "Ah, my good Lieutenant," he gasped, "just THINK how it will sound...Gestapo consorting with prostitutes... getting drunk, and having their wallets stolen! No, no, they will not dare! But come, I will need your help..."

Dumay had already contacted one of his friends who owned a truck, and when it arrived, they loaded it up with the inn's garbage cans, concealing the two agents behind the cans at the front of the truck. Dumay handed Garrison the men's wallets.

"You were right, _mon ami_ , they are Gestapo. You have a good judgment of people. Come, now, let's take this trash to the dump! It will be closing soon for the day."

The truck's owner drove, with Garrison in the passenger seat, while Casino and Goniff rode shotgun in the back, machine guns tucked down beside two of the cans. At the dump's entrance, a bored security guard checked the driver's papers, then waved him towards the active part of the dump. The driver backed the truck up, and Goniff and Garrison began to empty the cans, their actions hiding Casino and the driver as they bundled the two men up in tarpaulins, and tossed them over the side of the truck.

"What if someone runs 'im over, Warden?" Goniff whispered. "I mean, Dumay's goin' to be in a lot of trouble if they're found dead!"

"You're right, Goniff," Garrison agreed. "You and Casino move them over behind that pile of dirt. I think they'll be safe there.

On the drive back to the inn, Garrison thought about the possible consequences of what they'd done, and came to a decision. It was just too much of a risk for them to stay at the inn after this. _Damn that bar girl anyway!_ he thought. If only Dumay had told him what she was planning, he could have stopped her, and saved them all a lot of trouble...

Seething with irritation, he dismounted from the truck, and entered the inn by the back door, and climbed the stairs to the attic. Actor was lounging in a chair, smoking his pipe, but Billy was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Harper?" Garrison asked.

"I believe he's in his room, Warden." Billy and Actor had booked a room together to support their cover of being prison guards from Dusseldorf.

"I'll go get him. The rest of you stay here. This stunt Elise pulled isn't going to seem so funny come morning when those two Gestapo clowns wake up. We're going to have to move."

He left the room, and descended to the second floor, where Billy's room was. As he lifted his hand to knock, he could hear voices from inside. He froze, and listened. Billy's voice, and that of a woman...His face darkened in anger. It sounded like Elise! Damn it, as if the little tart hadn't caused enough trouble already tonight...

He reached for the doorknob, but suddenly Goniff was there at his elbow. "I thought I told you to stay upstairs!" he hissed angrily at the Cockney.

Goniff cocked his head, obviously listening to what was going on inside the room. He grinned. "Sounds like the young lad is havin' himself some nookie...Aww, warden, yer not going to spoil it for him, are you? C'mon, don't you remember what it was like to be that age?"

Garrison felt his face beginning to burn red. He leaned his head against the door frame, as he fought to control his anger, the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching. Dammit, did Goniff really think he was that much older than Billy? He wasn't sure which one he was angrier at right now...at Billy for causing this situation, or at Goniff for slighting his manhood.

Sensing he'd stepped over the line, Goniff backed away a few paces. Garrison sucked in a deep breath, and knocked sharply on the door. "Wilhelm!" he called, in German. "I want to see you upstairs in five minutes. It is very important!"

There was a sudden silence from inside the room. "I will be there, Herr Strobel," Billy replied at last.

By the time Billy entered the attic, Garrison's temper had cooled somewhat. Billy knew he was in trouble, for he came to attention and saluted Garrison. Garrison returned the salute.

"At ease, soldier," he said, his voice curt. "Salutes aren't going to make up for what you just did. You've put both yourself and Actor in a bad spot."

"Sir?"

"Think it through, Billy! What's going to happen when those Gestapo agents wake up? There going to come storming back here in a rage, and anyone with any connection with Elise is going to be questioned, and possibly arrested. I've decided we'll have to find somewhere else to stay. BUT…if you and Actor leave it will look pretty suspicious, so you'll just have to stay here and face the music."

Billy swallowed hard. He obviously hadn't thought of that.

"Do I make myself clear, soldier?"

"Yes, sir. Very clear."

"Good. We'll meet you downstairs for breakfast in the morning. Dumay has already arranged accommodation for the rest of us elsewhere. Dismissed!"

Garrison smiled grimly to himself as Billy left the room. _Maybe next time he'll have second thoughts before he lets his crotch overrule his brain,_ he thought to himself _. Let's hope those Gestapo agents have a nice, long nap. I don't think Billy and Actor are going to get much sleep tonight, though…_

On the other hand, he wasn't going to feel terribly sorry for them. He'd just found out from Dumay that Actor had spent some time with Elise while they were gone, too.


End file.
